The Brothers in the House
by PteraWaters
Summary: XOver with Dollhouse. Booth deals with the aftermath of his coma and his confused feelings for Bones while investigating a case brought to them from LA by Agents Paul Ballard and Samantha Ellis, or Echo. B/B and Booth/Ballard. Early S5 Bones.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I watched Bones while she worked in Limbo, partly to keep her company, but mostly to avoid the pile of paperwork drowning my desk. I love the way she examines each of the dried up dead bones as if it were a work of art, looking but not touching unless she has to. Today she's identifying a set of little bones – a kid. Somebody's kid died and his bones ended up here. Sure the remains were found fifty years ago, but that doesn't make it any less tragic. Bones likes to say that she can compartmentalize, but I see how hard it is on her, especially with children. It helps me remember what a fantastic woman she is under all the science mumbo jumbo. It makes me love her more. That is if I do love her – there's a little confusion over whether I actually love her or whether my bruised brain only thinks I do. I know _I'm_ confused.

She glanced at her watch, and then frowned at me. God, even her frown is beautiful. "You know, Booth," she said, looking at me over the pelvis she was examining – yes, I know what a pelvis is, thank you very much – "I'm not sure the bureau would appreciate your lack of productivity. I don't need you here."

"I'm keeping you company, Bones! That's what friends do," I said, giving her my charm smile. When I give her that smile, she always smiles back brightly. It breaks my heart every time, but I just can't stop doing it. I can't help but want to make her smile.

"It's not what productive FBI agents do, Booth." She set the bone down on the table carefully.

I laughed, "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying to work and you're distracting me."

I was distracting her? Sweet! "You find me distracting, Bones?" I couldn't keep the innuendo from my voice, but it sailed right over her head. Damn.

"Yes! You keep talking to me while I'm trying to work, which is very disruptive. And when you're not talking, your leg bounces and makes your shoe squeak against the floor. You could not be more disruptive unless you threw a processional. "

Huh? Oh, Bones speak. "It's 'threw a parade,' Bones. And alright, alright, I'll leave you alone. Alone with your bones," I intoned as I got up and walked away.

As I reached the stairs out of Limbo, Bones called over to me, "Booth!" I turned back, of course. She could change her mind on me a million times and I'd still come back to her. How could this be fake love?

"Yeah, Bones?"

"You'll let me know if we get a case?"

It was always work with her. "Sure, Bones. You bet."

I gave her one last look as I climbed the stairs to the main lab, finding her absorbed in her work. I looked at my watch, noticing it was lunch time. Maybe I should have dragged her to the diner for some food. She forgot to eat more often than not unless Angela or I forced her. Ah, not today. Bones was already annoyed with me, and as much as I love annoying her, I just wasn't in the mood to torture myself through another meal with her. Maybe I needed to talk to Sweets again, get him to fix me somehow.

I didn't stop up on the platform on my way out, not really feeling up to talking to the squints. However, I did notice a new face – a man talking to the security boys at the foot of the platform stairs. I may not know everyone's name here at the Medico-Legal lab, but I know every face. And his wasn't one of them. He was slightly shorter than me, probably younger by a few years – early thirties I guessed. Blonde hair, blue eyes, long narrow face, smug smile on his lips as he spoke. I wanted to punch him before I heard him say Bones' name. Afterward, I wanted to shoot him, but Sweet's would've made a big deal out of it if I followed through with _that_ impulse.

I walked up to the two, nodding at the security guard, "Hey, Larry."

"Agent Booth," he acknowledged, backing away from the stranger to let me do my thing.

I pulled out my badge and ID holder, flipping it open. "Agent Seeley Booth," I introduced myself, "and you are?"

"Will Cooper," he said, holding out his hand to shake mine. I didn't take it, instead pocketing my ID and setting my hands on my hips under my jacket, not so subtly exposing my gun in its holster. The man's eyes flashed to my gun and very briefly my 'Cocky' belt buckle.

"What do you want with Dr. Brennan?" Cooper didn't seem intimidated in the least. Crap.

"I'm supposed to meet her here. She's expecting me."

"You here on business?"

"The dead bodies thing? Oh, no." He laughed, as if I were stupid. I may not be as smart as Bones, or most of the people here, but I'm not dumb, goddammit. I really wanted to shoot him.

"Well?"

"We're supposed to have lunch. Can you tell me where to find her?" The jerk tried to step around me, but I put a hand in front of his chest. I really hoped I wouldn't have to actually touch him.

"Why don't we wait right here?" I looked around behind me and saw Wendell up on the platform. "Hey Wendell," I called. When he looked up I asked, "Could you bring Dr. Brennan up from Limbo?"

He left the platform, stripping off his gloves and joining us. "How do I get her to leave? Last time I tried, she almost broke my wrist."

I chuckled, "Yeah. She doesn't like to be touched." I emphasized these last few words for Will Cooper's benefit. "Tell her that her lunch appointment is here."

The intern nodded and stalked off toward the stairs. I stood staring at Cooper as he looked around the lab, taking everything in.

"So you don't do the whole 'dead body' thing," I said, getting his attention. "What _do_ you do?"

"I'm a partner at Helmsley and Walters."

"Law firm?"

"Architecture, actually," he smirked. Fuck. I had a lot more connections to the legal system. I would have to use the database to check up on this guy. And then Sweets would find out about it and give me a hard time about it. Double fuck.

"Hmm," I nodded, looking him over again. His suit and shoes were both expensive, but he wasn't wearing a tie. He had an air about him, maybe in the way he spoke carefully and in the way he held himself upright, that screamed old money. East Coast royalty, probably. Cooper. Too common a name to pin down to any one family without going into the database. Haven't I warned Bones about rich people about a million times?

"Where are you two going?"

Cooper leaned closer and spoke quietly, "Why do you need to know, Agent Booth?" It sounded like a threat and I almost growled at him. This was definitely no business lunch. Nor was it the first time he'd seen her, if he was pushing back this hard.

"Bones is _my _partner. I'm responsible for her safety."

"I assure you," he said in his quiet voice, face relaxed and smug, "she'll be perfectly safe with me."

I was trying to think of a reply that didn't involve breaking his nose when I heard Hodgins' voice from behind me. "Will?"

"Hey!" Cooper looked around me, smile brightening. He held his hand out to Hodgins, "Jack! How are ya?"

"Not too bad," Hodgins smiled. I felt deeply, deeply betrayed. Sweets would probably want to know the homicidal feelings I was having toward Hodgins, wouldn't he? Yeah, he would. "And how are you doin', Cooper my man?"

"Excellent. I made partner last year."

"Good for you!"

"You ever finish all those degrees you were working on?"

"Yeah, all three of them. Really impresses the ladies." Hodgins looked toward Angela's office while I stifled a chuckle.

"Speaking of," Cooper said. "Do you know where I could find Temperance?"

"Oh, no," I said. "We're waiting right here. Wendell is getting her."

Hodgins smiled at me, turning to his friend and saying, "You'd better wait. Booth likes to shoot things."

"Geez. You shoot one ice cream truck – _one_ – and no one will let it go!"

Cooper laughed and my whole body tensed. "You shot an ice cream truck?"

"That clown was asking for it," I steamed, frowning at Hodgins. It made me a little better that the squint lost his smile and cleared his throat. At least someone around here is still intimidated by me.

I swear I felt it when Bones got close enough, because I turned just in time to see her clearing the stairwell and looking around for me. Or maybe she was looking for Cooper. Fuck, again.

As Brennan increased her pace toward us, Hodgins held his hand out to his friend, who took it easily. "Good to see you, Will."

"Likewise."

Hodgins made his escape before Bones reached us. Good call on his part.

"Booth," Bones greeted me icily. "I see you've met William."

"Yeah, sure," I said, pulling her to the side by the elbow. "Is he why you were trying to get rid of me?"

"Yes." I hate it when she says these things so simply, shamelessly. But it's one of the reasons Bones is _Bones_. It's one of the reasons I loved her.

"Why?"

"You tend to become overprotective when I go out with men, Booth. I wanted to spare you the trouble."

"Fine. Whatever, Bones." I sighed, releasing her arm. "Will you at least tell me where you'll be if we get a case?"

"So you can show up halfway through?" she chuckled. "No, I don't think so, Booth. Look." She took her phone out of her pocket, pushing it in my face. "I have my phone; just call me if something critical comes up in the next hour."

"Don't think I won't," I warned, wagging a finger at her. She laughed and I almost smiled. Instead, I kept fuming just to keep Mr. Cooper over there on his toes.

"William?" Bones called, holding out her hand to take the jerk's arm. "Come with me to my office, so I can get my things?"

"Of course," he said politely, giving me a particularly smug grin as he passed me. I saw him lean toward her and speak softly as they walked.

"Why does everyone always think that?" she asked him loudly. He must have asked if we'd had a relationship. They think that because it's obvious to everyone but you, Bones, how much I love you. It might be time to go to the shooting range, if only to make sure I only take my frustration out on paper targets.

When I turned to leave, a group of half a dozen people, wheeling one cart with a body bag on it, came through the sliding glass doors into the lab. I pegged the man and woman leading the group as law enforcement, and maybe a few of the others. The man was tall and lean, with a square jaw and a nose slightly too big for his face. He was younger than middle aged, but he was no rookie. The woman looked even younger, but even more sure of herself. Her hair was long and a rich auburn brown, her face heart-shaped and her eyes large. In short, she was a knock-out. They were both wearing suits and I tried not to stare at the low-cut camisole under the woman's jacket. Seeley Booth is a gentleman, thank you very much. I took my badge back out and flashed it at them. "Special Agent Seeley Booth. What have we got here?"

The man took his badge out in response, his FBI ID familiar. Hey, another Fed! "I'm Special Agent Paul Ballard, and this is my partner, Special Agent Samantha Ellis. We're from the LA field office." I shook hands with both of them, smiling at the woman involuntarily. Just because I'm in love with Bones doesn't mean I don't look at anyone else. I'm only human. Ballard frowned at my smile, and I recognized that protective attitude he had toward Agent Ellis, backing off instantly. I gave him a friendly non-threatening smile, which seemed to placate him a little

She spoke up next, "We've got some remains that we need identified right away. AUSA Caroline Julian sent us here, to Dr. Brennan." Awesome! An important case that Brennan would cancel her lunch to work. I looked beyond the two agents to the body bag and the four men surrounding it. Now that the whole group was closer, those four in back looked more like guards than agents. Protecting the remains, but from what?

"I see you brought the remains here…"

"Isn't this where she works?" Ballard asked, brow furrowed. With four guards on a body, you definitely didn't want to dick around with getting it where it needed to go. Particularly since that many guards usually means you expect trouble.

"Yeah, this is it," I gestured back to the platform. "She just likes to get to the remains before they're moved from the scene."

"Too bad, Bucko," said Agent Ellis. "There was a slight fire issue. We had to move the remains so they wouldn't be destroyed."

"I'm just warning you what to expect."

"You're the liaison to the Jeffersonian, right Agent Booth?" asked Ballard. I liked his loose professionalism and I wondered who he'd trained under at Quantico. He reeked of Eddie's particular brand of training.

"Official Unofficial Liaison," I said proudly.

"Then you'll be working this case with us," he said, handing me a file. I flipped it open, skimming the forms and reports.

My stomach turned when I came to the line listing the suspected crimes. "Human trafficking?"

"Unfortunately," said Ellis. "We've been following these three brothers cross country from LA."

"So who's the stiff? One of the victims?"

"No," said Ballard, simply but intriguingly. "Where is Dr. Brennan?"

"Go ahead and load the body up on the platform. Wendell will help you." I pointed out the intern. "I'll go get Dr. Brennan. You should probably talk to Cam – Dr. Saroyan – too." I jogged around the platform to Bones' office.

"Bones!" I yelled. "We've got a case!"

She was just stepping out of her office with (ugh) Cooper, coat on and purse in hand. "But I didn't even get to have lunch!"

"Top priority," I said, taking her purse and slipping her coat from her shoulders. "You'll have to take a rain check on this one, Cooper."

"I'm so sorry, Will," Bones apologized as I stood there, with her coat and purse in hand, trying to corral her up onto the platform. "I'll call you later."

"Yeah, get lost, Will. She'll call you later." The man frowned at me angrily, but he left. Up on the platform, two of the guards were helping Wendell move the body onto one of the exam tables, while Agents Ballard and Ellis looked on.

"Aw," pouted Bones when she saw the body bag. "They moved the remains!"

"I already yelled at them for you, Bones."

"Good. I'm glad at least one of you understands how important it is not to compromise the remains."

Cam joined us and I made the introductions. "Dr. Brennan, Dr. Saroyan, these are Agents Ellis and Ballard from the LA field office."

Nods and handshakes were exchanged all around.

"Why don't we talk upstairs?" I asked, pointing to the conference table up there. I didn't want to spend any more time next to the remains than I had to. They smelled like burned meat (roast pork – thank you so much for that image, Bones) and burned rubber. I let Bones lead the way, following protectively close behind her until Cam hit my arm and gave me a harsh look. That woman knows me entirely to well. Upstairs we all sat around the table.

"What have we got here, people?" asked Cam, getting right down to business.

"For the past two months, we've been investigating a human trafficking ring," said Ellis, flipping open and sharing the file with Cam and Bones. I smiled at Ballard, finding it funny that we were both somewhat excluded by these three intense women. He seemed to get the joke and smiled back at me.

Ellis continued, "We believe it to be run by these three brothers," she pointed to a series of photos, spreading them out on the table. "Nathan, Brian, and Joseph Washington, though we're fairly certain those aren't their real names."

"Okay," said Bones, pushing the pictures in my direction. "Maybe it's because I lack the ability to distinguish subtle facial features, but these all look like the same man to me."

I took a look at the photos. In it was the same man, with three different styles of dress, three different haircuts, all were clean shaven. "It's not you, Bones."

"Here," said Ballard, pulling a picture from the bottom of the stack. In this one, all three of the men were sitting at an outdoor café, eating a meal. I passed the photo to Bones.

"Ohh," she said, smiling at me. God, I love it when she smiles at me. "Monozygotic triplets! This is very rare," she told Agent Ballard.

"Who's got mono?" I asked, not following the terminology,

Cam helped me out, "Identical triplets, Booth."

Suddenly I understood why these two agents had come to Bones with this set of remains. But I didn't want to guess too early and have to eat my words, so I hung back.

"Anyway," continued Ellis. "We think they're bringing people, especially young women, from Eastern Europe. We're working with Interpol, but the route seems to be from Greece to DC by ship, and then overland to LA and other North American cities."

"How awful," said Cam, using her sympathetic voice. "How can we help?"

"Last week in Baltimore," said Ballard, "we were undercover with the Washington brothers and Ellis got made by one of them. Ellis here winged him," he looked at her proudly, but without smiling. "The injured brother didn't die on the scene, but he didn't get medical attention either."

"What is your evidence? How could you know what he did or didn't get?" Bones and I are working on the concepts of supposition and conjecture.

"We found his body in our safe house," explained Ellis. "And his brothers, those fuckers, tried to burn the house down with all three of us in there." I kinda like a woman who's not afraid to swear, but Ballard was a guy I didn't want to cross if I didn't have to. I saw him looking at Ellis the same way I used to look at Bones, infatuated, intrigued, and protective. He wasn't in love with her, yet. But he would be very soon. Best not to poke the bear. Cam was used to cop talk and rolled with the profanity, but Bones shot me a look. She didn't appreciate this woman's lack of professionalism. I patted her arm in sympathy, and because I like having any excuse to touch her.

"So the body down there," asked Cam, trying to move on, "is the dead Washington brother."

Ellis nodded. Hah! I was right.

"If you know who he is, why do you need me?" Bones had a good point, but I chimed in with the answer.

"Because they don't know which brother they have."

"Exactly, Agent Booth. The whole time we were undercover, we failed to work out which brother was which. They like to confuse newcomers to their operation about who's who. Anyway, we think the last two brothers have split up somewhere in the DC metro area, and the contacts we'll need to use will be different depending on which Washington is lying on that table. Also, we only have evidence directly implicating Nathan Washington, which could affect our ability to get warrants if he's the one on that table."

"I will need as much medical information as you have," Bones demanded. I could tell her mind was already down there with the body. When she's got a good puzzle to work on, she tends to forget the niceties of polite conversation.

Ellis took another file from the stack in front of her. "Here you go. We'd also like any clues you can give us that might point to where the brother was between when I shot him and when he ended up at our house."

"Dr. Hodgins is very good at analyzing trace particulates. Your case is in good hands, Agent Ellis," Cam assured her, picking up the medical files. "Shall we begin the examination, Dr. Brennan?"

Bones nodded almost eagerly and followed Cam down the stairs, leaving me with the two other agents.

"So, Agent Booth?" asked Ballard. "Your primary assignment is Major Crimes – Homicide? Right?"

"Yeah?" I had to wonder where he was going with this.

"We haven't had any confirmed homicides, but I'm sure they're out there, if that makes you feel any better about taking this case with us."

"You'd be surprised at the variety of cases Bones and take on."

"Paul?" said Agent Ellis, and he turned toward her. "I'm gonna go give the doctors some of the information we have that isn't in those files."

"No problem, Echo." I noticed the nickname and wondered if it was a term of endearment, or a warriors-in-arms tag. It _was_ the military phonetic designator for her last initial.

We watched Ellis stalk down the stairs and over to the exam table, convincing Hodgins to let her up onto the platform.

"Say," I said, turning to Ballard. "I've been meaning to ask you, did you train with Eddie Morales at Quantico?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. Were you there at the same time? I'm sorry I don't remember you…"

"Nah," I assured him. "Eddie and I just go way back. I'd recognize his stamp on any of us."

Ballard laughed. "Yeah, Morales was quite a character."

"Did he ever do that…?

"With the beer bottles?"

"Yeah!" We both laughed. "He loves that prank."

"So you've been working K and R?"

"Organized Crime, actually. Investigation just led to the kidnapping and trafficking ring."

"Have you found any survivors?" I leaned back in my chair, putting my hands behind my head. Ballard frowned.

"Not as of yet. But our intel is solid. We've had undercover ops in LA and a trustworthy CI here in DC." He paused, looking down at his hands and licking his lips quickly. "We haven't been in the area very long, and we're having trouble tracking down the leads we need. I'd really appreciate some help on this, Booth."

"Yeah, sure. I worked OC for two years before I got transferred to Major Crimes. I think I've still got some contacts that might pan out. If not, I can ask around."

"Thanks." He sighed, letting his gaze drift down to the ladies on the forensics platform. "Word around the bureau is that Dr. Brennan's your partner."

"Yeah. So?"

"She does field work?"

"Heh," I laughed. "Usually I don't even bother trying to leave her here anymore. It never works."

"She strikes me as intensely curious," he said, watching her work.

"Intense might be too mild a word," I deadpanned. Ballard laughed.

"You call her Bones?"

"It used to piss her off," I smiled. "You called Ellis 'Echo'," I pointed out.

"I did?" I nodded. "Hmm," he said. "It's just a stupid call sign she likes to use on occasion. I guess I got used to it."

"Now, Ellis – she seems intense," I observed.

"She's been a lot of things," he muttered, cryptically.

"How's LA?" I asked, remembering the case Bones and I worked out there – the girl with all the plastic surgery. Such a waste of a pretty girl's life.

"Sunny," he said. "Complicated."

I laughed. "Complicated?"

"Sometimes I think LA is more political than DC."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Should we go over the rest of the file, so I can get a handle on what our next move is gonna be, once Bones figures out which brother you've got?"

"You really think she can figure it out? The body's pretty damaged."

"I've seen Bones get critical information out of three little bone chips that had gone through a chipper. We solved that case; we'll try to solve this case."

He looked me in the eyes for a moment, thinking before he spoke. "Okay," he said, like he was making a final judgment on me and Bones, and it was favorable. "Let's get into the details."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After Agent Ballard gave me his card with his contact info, I hung out for a few more hours in Bones' office, doing the paperwork I had been avoiding all day. The squints worked on the dead guy all afternoon, without much luck. Apparently the dead Washington brother had been divested of all his teeth before his body was dumped and flambéed, which explains why the ME couldn't identify the body. Besides dental records, fingerprints are the best way to identify one identical sibling from another, but all of his finger pads had been cut off. I hate that these professional criminals think they can get away with obscuring a body's identity. And I love Bones for her ability to figure it out anyway. Hodgins' tests wouldn't be done until morning, so I kidnapped Bones for some dinner at the diner before letting her go back to work.

I went home, of course, settling in for the night, talking to Parker over the phone before bed, and watching some TV. I was trying not to be too excited over this new case. Instead of tracking down just one killer, we might be able to take down a whole ring of bad guys. And Bones was gonna show off her mad skills to a whole new set of Agents. And maybe we'd get called out of the area more, travel more. Sure I might see Parker less, but if we were traveling all the time, Bones wouldn't have time to date jackasses like William Cooper. I made a mental note to corner Hodgins in the morning and interrogate him about his old buddy, Will.

As I got dressed in the morning, I put on the 'Cocky' belt buckle and the bright green socks and the silly tie. I still don't remember why I like wearing these things, but they're in my closet and they make Bones feel better when I do wear them. I guess I don't _mind_ them, per se. They're definitely whimsical, which I'm starting to appreciate. I just don't remember them being 'me'.

I checked in with the office, making sure my superiors knew Bones and I were helping with Agents Ballard and Ellis' investigation. Sweets wanted to touch base, so I stuck my head in his office. "Now a good time?" I asked, moving further into the office once I saw he was alone. "I gotta get back to the lab soon."

"Sure, Agent Booth," Sweets said, leaving his office chair and taking the chair across from the couch. "Please, sit."

I sat, draping my arms across the back and resting one ankle on the other knee. "What's up, Sweets?"

"I hear someone came by the Jeffersonian yesterday for Dr. Brennan. A _man_."

Shit. I was hoping he hadn't heard about that yet. I swear he's got something juicy on either Angela or Cam, enough that he hears all the gossip in short order. "Yeah," I said carefully.

"How did that make you feel, given your affection for Dr. Brennan?"

I gave the squirt a withering and intimidating look. "What do you think?"

Sweets swallowed, wide-eyed. "I would guess: not good?"

"Did they teach you all those fancy words at Shrink School, junior?"

"Okay," he said, holding up a hand. "Lashing out at me isn't going to help you deal with the fact that Dr. Brennan has met someone."

"It might make me feel better…"

"_Really_?" he asked scornfully. "Because I think you're deflecting your anger at her onto me."

"Why would I be angry at Bones? She's got the right to a personal life, just like everybody else."

"You're mad because a part of you thinks she should just _know_ how you feel about her. Without you having to open up and say the words."

I hate it when Sweets is right. I hate it even more when I don't realize he's right until he points something out to me.

"Okay. I'm mad. I'll deal." I stood up, saying, "Can I go now?"

"Just remember, Booth," he said, standing to meet my eyes. "If you're going to wait this thing out, see if your feelings for Dr. Brennan fade as your brain heals, you're going to have to deal with her _not knowing_. It might help if you make interpersonal connections with others, so your social happiness doesn't rely solely on Dr. Brennan's shoulders."

"I have friends."

"That you talk to more than once a month? Outside of hockey season? Besides the squints?"

I clenched my jaw and stayed silent.

"That's what I thought," the pipsqueak said. "Just give it a shot, Booth. You're working a new case with two agents from LA?"

I nodded.

"Good. Try to make friends with them. If it doesn't work out, at least they'll go back to the West Coast when this case is over and no harm, no foul."

"Fine, whatever, Sweets. Goodbye."

I picked up coffee on the way to the lab, enough for me and Bones, and maybe Hodgins, if he answered my questions. When I got to the lab, Bones was asleep on her desk. I sat the coffee next to her, but not so close that she would tip it over on accident. And then I went looking for the bug guy.

"Hodgins!" I called when I saw him. "Hey, buddy. What's the good word?"

"Still narrowing down the search. I found some metal filings and a couple of pollen species that indicate shoreline. We might be looking at the Port of Baltimore, but I'd rather wait until the mass spec data comes back."

"Alright." I turned away from him, and then turned back as if I'd remembered something. "Hey, Hodgins?"

"Yeah?"

"I couldn't help but notice that you knew William Cooper. I was just wondering how you two know each other."

"Our parents ran in the same social circles," he said slowly. "Why?"

"I knew it!" I said. "I knew he came from old money. He had the stink of it all over him, no offense."

"Oh, I'm aware of the stink, Agent Booth." He tilted his head as he looked at me. "You're looking for dirt on Dr. Brennan's new love interest."

"Shh!" I got closer to him, conspiratorially. "So, is there dirt I should know about?"

"Yeah," he said, drawing out his word and making me lean in closer. "Yeah, now that I think about it…"

"What? What's wrong with him?"  
"Nothing, Booth! Leave Will alone. He's a perfectly normal guy, trust fund beside the point. And I don't think Dr. Brennan appreciates you checking up on her." He nodded to somewhere behind me, so I turned. Bones was awake, sipping her coffee and heading toward us. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked pale. I wished she wouldn't sleep at her desk. A person needs a mattress, or at least a couch, to feel like a human being in the morning.

"Ixnay on the ecking-up-chay," I hissed at Hodgins, which made him laugh and shake his head.

"Booth, Hodgins," Bones said as she joined us. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," I said, steering her away from Jack and dodging the amused look he was giving me. "Hodgins is still working on the metal filings. What have you found out?" She handed her coffee to me as we approached the forensics platform, swiping her security card.

"Wendell and I have determined that the cause of death was not exsanguination due to a bullet wound."

I scrunched up my face at the next thought. "Oh, god. Tell me he didn't die from being set on fire."

"He didn't die from being set on fire, Booth. Look here," she pointed a camera at one of the neck bones, pointing to the magnified image on one of the monitors. "I found a slight scraping between these two vertebrae, which is consistent with a metal object being inserted into the spinal chord to sever it."

"Ouch!"

"His pain would have been very brief before he died. And here, on the internal surface of this vertebra, is a nick where the weapon hit. I'm surprised Cam didn't notice any external trauma before we removed the flesh."

"He was pretty crispy, Bones."

She scrunched up her face in disgust. "Yes, he was." I think she does that face just for my benefit, to let me know she's human. It looks completely forced, and completely endearing.

"Okay. He was shot and removed from the scene, and sometime later, before he died from the bullet wound, someone severed his spinal chord?"

"Hmm," she agreed, focused on the remains. Her eyes searched every inch of the skeleton as she worked downward from the head.

"Someone really didn't like this guy. Instead of taking him to a hospital, they shove a metal weapon in his neck?"

"I believe he was euthanized."

"Euthanized? Like when Timmy's puppy gets too old and has to be put down?"

"Yes. But in this case, I believe it was to hasten his death to relieve the pain of the bullet wound, here in the chest." She pointed to a set of ribs that were broken and marked by the bullet as it sliced through him.

"Or to make absolutely sure he was dead before they pulled out all his teeth, cut off his fingertips, and sent him as an immolation-o-gram. I don't know about you, Bones, but I would call that a small mercy."

"Indeed," she replied absently, looking back and forth between the autopsy report and the dead guy's feet. "Wendell?" she called and the intern looked up.

"Yes, ma'am?" He put down the tools he had been working with and walked over to the remains.

"You listed these microfractures on the feet as being caused by the fire."

"Yes, ma'am. Extreme heat causes microfractures in the bone, often occurring first in the extremities."

"But these fractures occurred pre-mortem. At least ten years pre-mortem."

"They did?" Wendell looked almost sick at his mistake, until I nudged Bones and she gave him an encouraging smile.

"Yes. See how the bone has remodeled around the breaks? And how the fractures are almost directed? I think you were half correct, Mr. Wendell. The fire caused the bone to break along previously healed stress fractures."

"Yeah, I see what you're saying Dr. Brennan. Neat."

"Very, neat, Mr. Wendell," Brennan agreed, smiling. She was getting better at teaching people who weren't as scary-logical as Zack. She turned to me, "Booth? Do we know if any of the brothers engaged in high-impact sports activities?"

"Like football?"

She hummed, looking at the skeleton's feet again. "No, something more like running or jumping. Track or volleyball?"

I flipped through the files on all three Washington brothers. Crap. "All three of them went out for college track, Bones."

"Does it say what events each of them specialized in?"

"Like hurdles? Discus? It doesn't really say…Oh, wait. Here's a newspaper clipping about some regional track meet. Joseph Washington placed third in the long jump."

"Jumping! Yes, Booth! That's it."

"The long jump is it?"

"Yes! Look at how these fractures are spider-webbed across the metatarsals and the cuboids. These are definitely more consistent with landing a long-jump than with repetitive impacts, as in running."

"Good. So this is probably Joseph?"

"Unless all three brothers competed in jumping events, I am quite confident that this is Joseph Washington."

"Great, Bones! I'll go over the records with Ballard and Ellis again, just to be sure. You are fantastic!" I almost hugged her, but stopped myself before I moved. It's just your broken brain, Seeley. Don't go giving her signals you won't follow through on when you recover.

"Speaking of," she said, pointing to the lab entrance. The two LA agents were just inside the doors, showing their badges to the security guards.

"Hey, guys," I called, running down to swipe my card so they could come up onto the platform. "We may have an ID."

"Great!" said Ellis, fresh faced and perky, her dark eyes fixed on the skeleton behind Bones.

"Which one do we think it is?" asked Ballard, as he and I followed Ellis back over to the body.

Bones and I filled them in on the recent developments. Ellis confirmed that the other two Washington brothers specialized in other track events, none of which involved jumping. "We don't know too much about their high-school records, though," she said. We think those were all faked when they came into the country."

"Well that explains the isotope profile," said Hodgins, approaching us. "I analyzed a coring from one of the bones. This guy lived somewhere in the Baltics when he was growing up."

"Our intelligence says Belarus," Ellis declared. "We think they still have connections to organized crime there."

"Yeah, Belarus fits the profile." Hodgins turned a report over to Bones, who fit it into the autopsy folder.  
Cam joined us, too and the area got a little crowded. "I hear we've got an ID?" she asked. I stepped behind Bones to make room, trying my best not to reach out and touch her.

"Meet Joseph Washington," Wendell said.

"We've got an ID and a possible location," said Hodgins.

"You analyzed those metal filings?" Cam asked.

"They're mostly iron, but there are traces of an aluminum-copper alloy as well. All consistent with machine shops or auto body shops."

"Those are everywhere, Hodgins," Cam pointed out. "How did you narrow it down?"

"The pollen I found is consistent with the whole area, except for these three species," he said, handing Cam a report and pointing to the line of interest. "Only found on the Maryland coast, particularly around Baltimore. In fact, I found some marine-resistant paint chips like they use on shipping containers. I'm thinking you'll want to look around the Port of Baltimore."

"You can't be any more specific than that?" asked Ellis, voice dripping with disappointment. "There must be hundreds of buildings that fit the profile."

"I'm sorry," Hodgins said, "Everything we have is just too generic to narrow it down any further."

Ellis sighed and looked up at Ballard. "I'm gonna have to go back undercover."

"They know your face, don't they?" I asked. "I mean, they delivered the guy you shot to your safe house."

"My CI says that Joseph here was the only one who saw my face. They think Ballard here was the only UC and they followed him back to the safe house. So he can't go back in, but I'm good."

"You seriously want to go in by yourself?" Ballard asked, a warning in his voice.

"Shit, yeah! These guys need to be stopped. No way I chicken out now." She gave her partner a hard look until he put up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, Ellis. We'll go set it up." Ballard turned back to me, "I'll check back with you at the end of the day, but feel free to call if you turn up any good leads." He handed me his card and I noticed there was a number written in ink on the back. Must be his cell number. I remembered again the assignment Sweets had given me. Make friends, depend less on Bones for my happiness. Maybe this number would come in handy.

"You got it." I slipped the card into my pocket, "I'll go over the records again, just to make sure we've got the right guy."

The two agents left, the squints went back to analyzing the body, and I puttered around for a little before heading back to my office. Sometimes I wish I had an office at the Jeffersonian, just to I wouldn't have to leave her. But sometimes I'm glad my office is in the Hoover Building – my own little oasis of normalcy and someplace to get away from the squints when they get on my nerves. And one squint in particular was getting on all my nerves.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I flipped my phone closed as I finished talking to Ballard. Echo was all set up to go back undercover tonight, and I had spoken to a college teammate of the Washington brothers who had confirmed that Joseph was the only brother who ever participated in the jumping events. I parked my car in the Jeffersonian garage and made my way up to the lab. Bones was back in her office, staring at her computer screen, hands poised above the keyboard.

"Hey, Bones," I called, sticking my head in the room, "we're doing a stake out tonight, following Ellis' undercover progress. You in?"

"What?" she murmured, tearing her head away from the screen to look at me.

"A stakeout Bones. Keep an ear on Ellis while she meets with the bad guys. You in?"

"Of course," she agreed, pushing back from her chair and standing. I saw her sway on her feet and rushed to her side, expecting her to topple over.

"I'm fine, Booth," she swatted me away. "I just got a little dizzy."

Her brow had a sheen of sweat and her skin was even more pale than it had been earlier. On a hunch, I laid the back of my hand against her forehead. "You're burning up, Bones! You are not fine." I noticed the mass of used tissues in her wastebasket and the redness around her nose. "You're sick. I'm taking you home."

"Don't be silly, Booth. It's just a cold. I want to go on the stakeout."

"No. You're going home and going to bed, and I'm going to make sure you stay there."

She screwed up her face and I stepped back just in time to avoid her violent sneeze. "Fine. I won't go on the stakeout, but you have to go. You know the streets better than Agent Ellis or Agent Ballard. They might need you."

"Naw," I grabbed her coat from the tree near the door, holding it out so she could slip her arms into the sleeves. "They're pros at the whole undercover thing. We'd just be extra backup."

"I don't want to get someone killed because I caught a virus," she insisted pragmatically, straightening her coat. "I'll get a ride home with Angela."

I stood, looking at Bones and trying to make a decision. Ballard really might need me on surveillance, but Bones was sick. My heart was telling me to go home with Bones, get her all settled and make sure she took care of herself. But that was something boyfriends did, wasn't it? And I was trying to maintain a sliver of professional distance until my brain was definitely healed. "Alright," I agreed, handing her purse to her. "But I'm delivering you directly to Angela. Right now." I steered her by the elbow from the office, feeling her warmth seeping through the fabric of her coat.  
"Fine, Booth. You do realize I'm an adult who can take care of herself?"

"I also realize that you have a very bad record of taking care of yourself. Remember the pneumonia debacle of '07?"

"It was walking pneumonia, and it wasn't that bad."

"Angela," I called as we entered her office, "Bones is sick. Would you take her home and make sure she gets some rest?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm sorry you're not feeling well, sweetie."

"I feel fine, Angela."

"You're running a fever, Bones. You're not fine."

Angela put her hand on Bones' cheek and nodded. "Where are you off to, FBI man?"

"I have to work surveillance for Agent Ellis' undercover operation."

"Of course. Don't worry about us. I'll get Brennan home and to bed."

"I keep telling you people I'm not a child!"

Angela and I shared a knowing laugh and I left the lab, heading back to my car so I could meet Ellis and Ballard back at the Hoover Building. We had just an hour or so to go over the Op before Ellis was supposed to meet her contact.

After going over the plan at least four times, I drove Ellis and Ballard to the bar where Ellis was supposed to meet her contact. I think she said his name was Robert Volkov, something that sounded second-generation Russian. She would be posing as the contact's girlfriend and a potential investor in any businesses Washington was running, including the human trafficking ring we were really after.

Ellis wore an expensive cocktail dress for the meeting – sexy but implying money and ruthlessness. It suited her.

I stopped three blocks away from the bar, just in case anyone was watching Ellis' contact. "Thanks, Booth!" She hopped down from the passenger seat, and met Ballard as he opened the sliding door.

"Be careful," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Paul!" she whined, "I'm always careful. Besides," she said, pointing to the equipment in the back, "you'll have my location and stats the whole time."

"Things can go wrong. I just don't want you getting hurt."

"Do you trust me?" Ellis' question sounded loaded, as if it had much more meaning than I knew.

Ballard sighed, looking her straight in the eyes. "With my life." She turned to leave, but he pulled her back. "Everything's going to be alright?"

"As long as you're here." She smiled brightly and skipped away, skirt flouncing and heels clacking. Ballard shook his head and pulled the door shut.

I wondered if this was some ritual they always did before going undercover. It didn't sound like a new conversation to either of them. Rote almost, like the back and forth prayers of Catholic Mass.

Ballard took the chair furthest from the front of the van, switching on the monitors and waving me back. I crawled out of the driver's seat and took the chair beside him.

"Ellis said you'll have her location and stats. No eyes and ears?"

"Yeah," nodded Ballard, pointing to one of the screens. "It's a new setup we've been using for undercover Ops in LA. Ellis got implanted with a biosensor, so we can track her physical stats here. And over here is the readout from the implanted GPS transmitter. We don't use audio and video because the wires are so easy for professional crooks to find."

"Don't you need to record them for evidence?" Working with a lawyer as good as Caroline had me almost obsessed with quality of evidence.

"Prosecution isn't our main goal on this mission. Right now we want to get Ellis in a position where she'll be able to meet with the Washingtons and all their biggest buyers at once. That's when we'll get all the evidence we'll need."

"Geez," I said, taking a closer look at the monitors. One of the screens showed a headshot of Ellis, with the word Echo underneath it, and a bunch of squiggly lines that must have been her stats. I recognized the one labeled 'pulse' but none of the others were any English I understood. "You guys really take your undercover seriously. Where do you get the funding for equipment like this?"

"I think a lot of it was donated by the Rossum Corporation," he said, leaning back in his chair, but keeping his eyes on the monitors. "They really don't like competing with mobsters for their market share."

"The Rossum Corporation? Why haven't I heard of them?"

"I suppose the name only really comes up on Wall Street. They're one of the big umbrella corporations."

"Using the FBI to eliminate their competition?" I scoffed and sat back. "I don't like it."

"My supervisor makes sure they understand we uphold the law for the law's sake, not for theirs."

"Well that's some comfort at least."

"Mmm," agreed Ballard, watching the GPS map. The dot representing Agent Ellis had reached the appointed address.

"So Ellis got these sensors implanted? She must go undercover a lot."

"You have no idea," he murmured, switching his gaze to the monitor detailing Ellis' stats.

"What do you mean?" I saw the woman's heart rate spike briefly, then return to normal. Meeting the contact, perhaps?

"Oh," Ballard said, shooting me a glance. "I guess you could say undercover work is Echo's purpose."

"You not so much?"

He laughed shortly. "Well I was the one who blew our cover last time, so I'd say no. I usually stay back and act as her handler."

"Agent Ellis strikes me as quite the handful."

"Not unlike your Dr. Brennan, humm?"

I smiled, but didn't answer him. "Is that dot supposed to be moving that fast?" I asked, pointing to the GPS monitor.

"No," he said with a frown. "They're on the move. You drive," he said, pointing me back to the steering wheel, "and I'll navigate, okay?"

"Sure."

I followed Ballard's directions as we followed his partner, making corrections here and there when my knowledge of the DC particulars conflicted with his advice. We left the DC area, heading northeast toward Baltimore. We kept about a mile back, so there would be no chance of being made.

"Don't you want to keep her where you can see her?"

"Well yeah, I would rather," Ballard answered, "but after brother Joe got shot, I'm expecting the Washingtons to be extra paranoid. Don't worry, Ellis can handle herself."

Eventually Agent Ellis' GPS signal stopped moving and I drove past the location so we could get an eye on it before backing off. It was a strip club, neon lights bright in the early evening darkness.

"Classy," muttered Ballard, signaling me to drive around to get a look at the alley behind the place. There were guards near all the doors, and I had no doubts that they were all armed and all proficient. These Washington brothers were no two-bit hacks, but professionals. And this many guards couldn't be light on the wallet.

I drove to a restaurant parking lot about eight blocks away, where our van wouldn't be noticed among the late dinner rush. Speaking of…

"D'you think we'll be here awhile?"

"Casey told Ellis the actual meeting wouldn't be until the end of the night. They had to show up early to spend some money and make nice." He looked up from Ellis' monitors, "Why?"

"I managed to skip dinner and I was thinking about running in here and grabbing take-out. Did you want anything?"

He looked out the windows at the restaurant's sign. It was sit-down hamburger joint, food All-American and atmosphere cheesy. "Sure," he agreed, sitting back down in his chair.

"Any preferences?"

"Not really," he said absently. "Anything's fine."

"I'll be right back, but call me if anything happens."

I hopped from the van's driver seat and entered the restaurant.

Four hours and two cheeseburgers later, Ballard and I were still waiting for Ellis to either contact us or run into trouble. To pass the time we talked about everything and nothing. Sports, the weather, Eddie Morales, back around to sports. I found Ballard friendly, but not overly talkative. He kept the conversation going, but didn't go out of his way to elaborate on much. He told a few stories, but mostly he listened to mine and kept his eyes on the monitors.

I didn't know him well enough to know if his taciturn demeanor was normal for him, or if he was worried about Ellis. If it was Bones out there without me, I'm sure I would be going crazy. Of course, Bones wasn't a trained FBI agent who specialized in undercover operations. And sometimes she had as much common sense as a spoon. I mean really, what was she thinking going to see the Harbinger cult's doctor without me?

Just the thought of that incident, that by the time I got to her, it could have been too late, made my stomach turn. I remembered the smell of her blood as it seeped from the wound on her arm and into my clothes. I remembered the way I held her, like I would never ever let her go. I remembered calling her 'baby'. I remembered feeling the loss of her from my arms when the paramedics got there and took her away. I remembered the way she shooed me away when the doctors said she was ready to go. She wouldn't even let me drive her home.

I wondered how she was feeling, if I should maybe call to check up on her. I looked at my watch. No, it was too late to call. Hopefully she was asleep in bed, but I knew there was a better chance she was camped out on her couch, working.

I brought my attention back to the monitors. Ballard and I had been quiet for half an hour or so. He was tapping a pen against his leg in a quick, quirky rhythm, eyes still glued to the monitors. I studied the headshot of Ellis on her stats monitor. Or, I should say I studied the picture of 'Echo' as the monitor indicated. In the image, Ellis' hair fell around her shoulders and her face was unbelievably passive. Usually even mug shots give you a sense of what kind of person the subject is. Ellis' photo showed absolutely no personality, which seriously clashed with the woman I'd met yesterday. That Ellis was full of energy and guts and charisma.

I looked over at Ballard, contemplating how he acted around Ellis. I had thought before that he didn't quite love her, but he was getting there. Looking at him now, I realized I was wrong. He was already there, heart and soul. But something was holding him back. I wondered if it was anything like what had been holding me back from Bones. I had been holding back for years, just like Ballard was holding back from Ellis. Man, I realized, we had more in common than just Eddie Morales and the love of a good cheeseburger.

Sweets' order jumped out at me, latching onto that thought. I should try to make friends with Ballard. I should take the burden of my entire social happiness from Bones' shoulders, spreading it around. Ah, damnit, Sweets. I hate it when he's right.

**AN**: I hope you're enjoying my tale so far and believe me, there's a lot more to come. But I'd like to know how you think it's going… Writing Booth has been a lot of fun, and I hope you're enjoying reading him. If you are, please give me a review. If you're waiting for more chapters before passing judgment, then no hard feelings. I know I lurked for a long time before reviewing anything. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Oh, shit," said Ballard suddenly, "Echo's stats are spiking. She's in trouble."  
I hopped back into the driver's seat, starting the engine and peeling out of the parking lot. Take it easy, Seely, I told myself as I drove, weaving through the minimal late night traffic. If we we're going to help Ellis, we have to get there in one piece. A minute later, I pulled up in front of the club, cutting the engine.  
Ballard opened the back doors, pouring out of the van while drawing his gun. I followed through the driver's door, drawing my weapon as I circled around the back of the van to follow him. I kept my gun pointed safely at the ground as I followed Ballard, my heart beating like crazy. Please, I prayed. Please let us make it in time. We heard a shot from inside the building, muffled by the doors and windows still separating us from Agent Ellis. "Oh, god," I heard Ballard breathe, his voice cracking with worry.  
As we approached the building, I briefly wondered if Ballard could keep it together if we found Ellis dead. He seemed furious, but calm and focused. That was a good sign, anyway. I'd like to think I'm good in a crisis, levelheaded in the face of danger. But if that was Bones in there? I'd be running towards her full tilt, and who gives a damn about a careful approach?  
There were a few more muffled shots and the doors were flung open, the next few gunshots ringing through the air. A man came running out of the building before I heard a 'pop' and he fell, planting his face in the pavement. Six of the beefy security thugs left the building after him, one checking to make sure he was dead and the others looking around for someone.

"Where's Ellis?" I hissed at Ballard. These guys all looked armed, and it really wouldn't do much good to get into a firefight with them. But if we needed to pull Ellis out and rescue her, they would have to go.

Ballard looked back at me and started shrugging when a volley of shots followed the thugs from the building, felling two of them. They scattered and a man ran out of the building, crouching down as the shooter followed him. The shooter was Agent Ellis, her lip bloody and her dress ripped, but she was holding a really big gun and aiming it at the group of thugs.

"Oh, fuck," I breathed, as one of the thugs raised his gun to shoot back at her. Ballard and I shot him in unison, both head shots. As the other thugs were looking around for us, Ellis had enough time to get behind some cover before they returned fire.

"FBI!" I yelled from behind a heavy van in the parking lot. "You are firing on a federal agent. Surrender your weapons!"

Several shots hit the truck I was hiding behind, followed by a rude, "Fuck you, Fed."

I looked at Ballard, who was crouched behind another car across an aisle from me. I signaled for him to go around the back side of his car, away from me, as I circled the other way. As we approached, one of the thugs managed to get the jump on Ellis, throwing her gun away as his buddies searched for me and Ballard. I couldn't get a clear shot at Ellis' attacker, and I worried for her safety, my heart painfully up in my throat.

Apparently I didn't have to worry. Ellis pulled some sort of ninja move, twirling and kicking her attacker, punching him in the kidneys and throat. Ballard took out another of the armed thugs as I approached them from behind, keeping as much cover as I could. "Lay down your weapons!" I shouted, surprising the four who were left.

Only years of muscle memory and quickly honed reflexes saved me as the thug on the far right raised his weapon to shoot me. Before he could pull it off, I put two bullets center mass. "I _said_, drop your weapons!"

The rest of the thugs complied, placing their weapons on the ground. "Kick them toward me," I ordered, nodding when all three complied. A glance back to Ellis showed her bringing her attacker down, hitting him once more in the face for good measure.

Ballard approached the guys, holstering his gun and taking out a pair of cuffs. While I kept guard, he twisted the first man's arms behind his back, holding them together with one hand as he snapped the cuffs on the man's wrist. As he was going for the second guy and Agent Ellis approached us, I holstered my gun to cuff the third guy.

Suddenly, five more men ran from the building toward us, though only one was armed. Ellis clothes-lined the guy with the gun, taking his weapon, but everyone else started brawling with us, including the guy that was already handcuffed. I ducked a punch before giving and taking a few more from the two thugs in front of me. Ellis and Ballard were both taking on more than one attacker, and were both winning. Man, I felt old.

I managed to get one guy knocked down before I saw someone running around the brawl out of the corner of my eye. "There goes Washington!" Ellis screamed, unable to escape the fight and go after him. Just before the figure passed me, I shoved the thug in front of me toward Ballard and whipped around just in time to catch a Washington brother around the chest. I kept turning him far enough to slam him against one of the cars in the parking lot. As I grabbed for his wrist to disable him, he pulled a knife on me, swiping it at my face.

"Hey, now!" I yelled, stepping back. "Why'd you have to go for the face?"

"Maybe I'm jealous," the guy quipped, trying to find a way to get past me by feinting first one way or the other. I saw his feint for what it was, moving to block his escape and he jabbed at me again, aiming for my belly this time. I managed to let the blade slip past me, grabbing his wrist and turning it outward far enough that he dropped the knife. I twisted his arm behind his back and pushed him so he was pressed face first against the car. While he moaned in pain, I got his other arm immobilized and slapped the cuffs around his wrists.

"Alright, Washington," I said, glancing back to check on my fellow agents, who were doing surprisingly well, "you're under arrest." I read him his rights and walked him back to where Ellis and Ballard were immobilizing the rest of Washington's crew. Flipping open my phone, I called for backup, now required only to get all these detainees into holding.

"Say," I said to the Washington brother, "you wouldn't be willing to tell me your first name, would you?"

"Sure, Fed, sure," he drawled, his voice covered in sleaze. "Full name's Horatio von Up-your-ass."

"Ha, ha. Very funny. I'll take that as a no." I pushed him down onto the concrete. "Sit right there, bucko. If you move, I'll shoot ya."

"You're one of the good guys," he said, sounding really very unconcerned. "You're not supposed to shoot an unarmed man."

"Yeah," I replied, "that's what my shrink keeps telling me."

When help arrived and most of Washington's crew had been loaded up in the paddy wagons, I finally got a chance to ask Ballard and Ellis about what had just gone down.

"I don't know," Ellis sighed. "Everything was going great. People were havin' a good time, drinks were flowing and we had just started to talk business. All of a sudden Washington gets this call that sends him over the edge. Started yelling about how this was a set-up and how I was a cop."

"Any idea who tipped him off?" Ballard asked, rubbing the fingers of one hand with the other.

"No idea. Paul, are you okay?" she asked, grabbing his hand gently.

"Yeah, Echo. I'm fine. Just jammed a few fingers during the fight."

"You should put some ice on that," I suggested. "Once Parker, my son, went down the slide head first and jammed his finger on the way down. It swelled up to three times its normal size by the next day."

Ballard chuckled. "Yeah, okay. I'll get an ice pack from the bus over there," he pointed to the ambulance and jogged away.

"I'm sorry this didn't go as planned, Ellis," I said as we watched Ballard go. "I just wish we knew where the tip came from. If we've got a dirty cop…"

"If you've got a dirty cop in your department, you've got a dirty cop. It happens. Don't go beating yourself up about it. We brought in one Washington tonight, so it's not a total loss."

"But how are we going to get enough evidence to charge him? Caroline does not like messy arrests."

"If his fingerprints come back Nathan Washington, we have enough evidence to charge him for fraud and money laundering, which could give us more time to find better proof for the human trafficking bit."

Ballard came back to the conversation, hand swaddled in an ice pack. "I just heard your guys saying they couldn't fingerprint Washington because he's burned them all off."

"Seriously?" I asked. "What the hell?"

Ellis punched one hand with the other fist. "These bastards just love being slippery little fuckers. There's got to be some way we can determine his identity."

I held up a finger, getting a thought. "Let me talk to my people in the morning. I'll see what I can do."

Ballard nodded. "C'mon. I'll drop you off at your car so we can all get some sleep before morning catches up with us."

"Yeah, thanks," I said, handing him the keys as I followed him back to the van.

I took shotgun, while Ellis sat in the back, letting Ballard take the driver's seat. When we got to the freeway, I turned in my seat so I could look back at Ellis and over at Ballard.

"Okay you guys. What was up with the ninja assassin moves tonight?"

"Specialized hand-to-hand combat training," Ellis told me. "Standard issue for undercover agents out in LA."

"What? Do you have a surplus of martial arts gangsters out west? Like in kung fu movies?"

Ballard laughed. "Not exactly. Mostly they just like to shoot at us."

"Damn," I sighed. "Here I thought you guys were cool…"

"Hey!" laughed Ellis. "I'm cool! You're right about Paul, though."

"Yeah, thanks, Ellis," he said sarcastically, engaging the indicator light as he merged into the exit lane.

"No problem, B! I got your back."

I looked back at Ellis, smiling at the way she leaned back in her chair, arms stretched over her head like she hadn't a care in the world. Too bad Ballard already had dibs, and I had this overwhelming love for my partner. I sighed. Bones.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

We leaned on Washington and his thugs for three days, getting no where until a judge granted us a court order to perform a living autopsy on the guy. Ballard and Ellis brought him to the Jeffersonian, where Cam took the lead. The squints took all sorts of scans and X-rays, while we three agents watched him like a hawk. At one point, he managed to palm a pen from one of the desks as Ellis and Cam walked him from one area of the lab to another.

"Uh, uh, uh," I scolded, grabbing him by the arm as he passed me and taking the pen from his hand. "What d'ya think you're doing, man?"

"Agent Booth," he replied coolly with a nod and an evil little smirk. "I was just going to write down some of these test results."

"Sure you were, Washington," Ballard retorted, picking up the pen from where I'd placed it back on the desk. "And you just happened to pick the sharpest pen from the desk?"

"Hey, that one was just closest. I swear," he smiled calmly.

"Where are you takin' him next?" I asked Cam, quickly searching him for other weapons, finding a paperclip between two of his fingers and showing it to everyone.

Cam shook her head in disbelief. "Angela's got an idea about recovering his fingerprints."

"Hey!" said Washington as Ellis grabbed him harshly and pulled him toward Angela's office. "No one said anything about fingerprints!"

Ballard, Cam and I followed as Ellis told him, "C'mon, buddy. Our warrant lets us examine you everywhich non-invasive way we can think of."

"Hi guys!" said Angela as we trooped into her office. "I wasn't really expecting an audience." I noticed her smiling at Ballard in particular, which made me glance to Ellis. The female agent seemed oblivious to the object of Angela's interest.

Instead of looking at Angela at all, Ellis eyed the computer, asking, "How does this work?"

Angela was still staring at Ballard, so I snapped my fingers in front of her face. "Ange?"

"Oh, right!" her smile turned apologetic as she directed us toward a particular piece of electronic equipment. "This is a high-resolution scanner. I need you guys to hold his fingers pressed against the glass while I take some images. These are mostly going to be infrared images, so don't worry if you don't see any light."

"I think my lawyer will have something to say about this!" he yelled as I helped Agent Ellis hold Washington still while Angela took her pictures.

"There we go," she said eventually. "Now I just enhance the photos to bring out the patterns hidden behind the scarring..."

The image on Angela's screen resolved more and more with every keystroke until eventually there were distinct fingerprints for each of his fingers. "And now, I just select the best examples and run them against the prints we've got on file."

Angela did some more computer magic and then the computer dinged. She smiled and turned to face the man in custody. "Hello, Mr. Brian Washington."

I glanced at the computer screen before saying, "You did it, Angela!" I smiled and gave her a friendly high-five, saying, "You're the best!"

"I know..." she grinned at Ballard again, and he actually noticed her this time, smiling back awkwardly, looking to Ellis. Angela's expression changed to amused understanding and she nodded her head, backing off.

Just then, Bones came into the room, asking, "What's going on? Is the case broken?"

"Dr. Brennan!" exclaimed Cam. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," she turned to me, the question about the case still in her eyes.

"Angela has given us a _break in the case_, Bones. She used her fancy computer gizmos to get Brian's prints here."

"But his fingers have been badly scarred..."

"That's why we owe Angela a drink, Bones. Because she figured it out anyway," I gave her a significant lift of my eyebrows, hoping she would recognize my signals. Sometimes she really stinks at nonverbal communication.

"Oh. Oh! Good work, Angela! Excellent as always."

Angela smiled graciously. "Thanks, sweetie."

As Ballard and Ellis escorted Brian Washington from the lab, I pointed back at the three ladies. "I'm serious, girls. Drinks at the Founding Fathers' on me. After work tonight. Tell everyone else."

"Booth," Bones began. "I really don't think --"

Cam cut her off. "I'll make sure it happens, Booth. See you there."

"See you," I waved before doubling back. "Oh, and Ange? Send those prints to me at the Bureau?"

"You got it, Booth. See you later."

I ran to catch up with my fellow Agents as we escorted Washington back to the holding facility before meeting in my office so we could talk.  
"Okay, guys," I said. "Now that we know which brother we've got, please tell me we can get him for something."

"Well," said Ellis. "We could charge him for assaulting two federal officers: hitting me and pulling a knife on you."

Ballard nodded, "It could buy us enough time to come up with some real evidence. Your guys are still working on finding that secondary crime scene?"

"Yeah," I assured him. "But we could definitely work that angle a little harder. Canvas the area, ask around for witnesses."

"That sounds like a job for tomorrow morning," Ellis smiled, standing up. "Did I hear you say something about a drink?"

That night Ballard and Ellis joined me in that mid-case celebratory drink with the squints. Usually we waited until all the bad guys were in custody before celebrating, but I had Sweets' mandate in mind when I invited everybody out. And besides, the Happy Hour at the Founding Fathers' pub goes all night on Thursdays.

We sat around one of the big circular booths, with Bones on the end because she hates being trapped in the middle. I sat between her and Ballard, with Jack in the middle next to Cam, then Angela and Wendell Bray on the end. Ellis sat in the chair at the head of the table generally being the center of attention.

Things were going well and everyone was having a good time listening to Ellis' really quite terrifyingly crazy stories about her college days, until I noticed a particular face walk into the bar. A particular blond-haired, blue-eyed face that made me want to shoot something. Anything.

I elbowed Bones, leaning in her ear to ask, "What's he doing here?"

"Who?" she asked, looking around until her gaze landed on the man standing at the bar. "William?" He smiled that smarmy little smile when she waved at him. "I asked him to meet me here. We're going out for dinner," she said, gathering her things. "Is that okay?"

No! I wanted to scream. No, it's not okay! Instead I plastered on a fake smile and said, "Yeah, of course. See you later Bones."

"Bye, Booth," she said quietly, almost like she was sad to leave. She _never_ gave me that much. Never. But she still left, waving to goodbye everyone as she left to meet that douchebag at the bar.

"Oh!" cried Ellis, disappointed. "One down so early?" She stood up abruptly. "Alright, squints. Who's doing shots with me?"

"I'm in," said Angela, ribbing Wendell with her elbow.

"Yeah, me too."

"I'll just get a whole bunch!" she said, heading for the bar with Wendell in tow.

"Is she always this much of a party girl?" I asked Ballard, leaning in so he could hear me.

He laughed. "Not always. It sorta changes case by case."

"Good. If she were my partner," I joked, "I think I'd have died of liver failure by now."

"You're not wrong," he replied, laughing as he watched her return, leading Wendell – who was carrying a tray covered in alcoholic beverages – by his tie.

Sometime during the evening, after most of the drinks were drunk and the potato skins and pub nachos eaten, Ellis and Wendell disappeared together in a cab. Jack offered to drive Angela and Cam home, having abstained from the heavy drinking.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked him as they passed me at the bar while I was buying another round of beers for me and Ballard.

"Yeah, man. I had one beer all night. I'm fine."

"I don't know. You are kinda short..."

He scoffed with a smile and gave me a playful shove as he left.

I brought the beers back to the table, handing one to Ballard as I sat down. "And then there were two."

"Uh, uh," said Ballard, taking a long sip of his drink.

"Hey, cheer up, Ballard," I said. "We got one of your suspects."

"But not the one that counted." He sighed and spun a coaster on its rim across the table, like a spinning coin.

"I've got good people, Paul. Scary-smart people. We'll figure it out."

"But we haven't got an _in_. They know all our faces now."

I chuckled. "Going undercover isn't the only way to get this done."

"I know that. But sometimes working with Echo, it seems like the only way."

I looked over at him, studying his face. "Are you upset that Ellis left with Wendell?"

"No," he said sullenly. "She can do what she wants."

I clapped him on the back and raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'Really?'

He turned it around on me. "Are you upset your Dr. Brennan left with that rich guy?"

"Fuckin' A!" He stared at me in surprise and I slapped a hand to my mouth. "Shit! Don't tell her I said that!"

Paul laughed, his chuckle deep but loud. "Which part? The cop talk or the answer to my question?"

"Both," I smiled, taking another swallow of my beer.

"You two seem so close. Why haven't you made a move?"

I sighed. "Bones is sort of...damaged. She needs to come to me."

"And how long have you been waiting for that to happen?"

"Three and a half years, give or take."

Ballard spit out his beer in surprise. "Fuck, Seeley! That's a long time. Why?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Because she's worth it? How long will you wait for Ellis?"

"I guess I'm still trying to figure out if she's worth it." He paused, thinking with a furrowed brow. "Plus, our work is so important. I need her to trust me."

"Yeah, I get that."

We sat in silence for a few moments, finishing off our drinks. "Man, that conversation got serious! You're a fucking morose guy, Seeley Booth!"

"I'm the morose one?" I asked, giving him a shove on the shoulder with a grin. "You're the one talking about trust and figuring things out. I'm _sedately pining_. There's a difference."

He laughed and shoved me back. "Sure there is..." Ballard's phone beeped then and he pulled it out of his back pocket, leaning toward me a little as he retrieved it. In that short moment, I caught a whiff of his aftershave and found it oddly pleasant.

"Shit," he said, showing me the screen of his phone. On it was a text message. 'Need the room. Get lost 4 tonite. -Echo'

"Harsh," I agreed. "You need a place to crash? I've got a couch."

"I don't want to put you out. I'll just find another room."

"At midnight on a Thursday when Congress is in session? I don't think so. If it makes you feel any better, you can pay for the cab."

"And another round," he nodded, leaving for the bar while I paid a visit to the little boy's room.

When I came back to the table, Ballard pushed two beers in my direction. "Shit," I said, starting on the first one. "Here I thought your partner was the party girl."

"Hey!" he laughed. "I just figured this is probably our last chance for some fun before this shit gets really serious."

"To shit getting serious," I toasted holding up my glass.

"Cheers!" Ballard chuckled, tapping my glass with his.

An hour later, we were fairly wasted as we waited outside the bar for the cab.

"Hey!" I said, hitting Paul on the shoulder. "What were those fancy Kung Fu moves you were using the other day?"

"It was pretty basic," he laughed, putting up his fists in a sparring stance.

I followed suit, cracking up when his kick missed me by a long shot. "That wasn't even close," I teased, swinging a boxer's punch lightly toward his ribs, making contact. "Ellis was right, Paul. You just aren't that cool."

He surprised me with another kick, this one hitting me square in the chest. He'd pulled it so there wasn't much force, but it knocked me just off balance enough to fall on my ass.

"Oh, fuck!" he laughed, giving me his hand to help me up. "Sorry! I seriously didn't think that would hit you." When he pulled me, I ended up going too far forward into him, practically into his arms.

Drawing back and putting a hand on his shoulder to steady myself, I noticed the scent of his aftershave again. I fought the urge to sniff him on purpose, backing up and mumbling, "Sorry, man." I looked up into his face to find a goofy smile plastered over his lips.

"That's what you get for calling me uncool, Agent Seeley Booth. Knocked flat on your ass."

"I'll keep that in mind," I smiled as I sat down on a concrete planter, wondering where the cab was.

Ballard sat beside me, laughing. Hey. That was good, right? Sweets had said, go out and make friends, and here I had a friend.

We made it back to my place in one piece, stumbling through the door. I poured myself a big glass of water, gulping it down as I went to my closet for the spare bedding. I pulled out a pillow and a couple of blankets, bringing them back into the living room for Paul. When I got there, he was finishing unbuttoning his dress shirt, pulling it off to reveal a tight white undershirt. I noticed his chest muscles under the shirt as they flexed.

Usually when I notice another guy's muscles, I mentally compare them to my own. Not this time. This time, I just noticed, wondering what he looked like without any shirt. That thought made my heart speed up a little bit, thumping in my ears.

I cleared my throat, getting his attention. "Uh, here you go," I stammered, handing him the bedding. "Kitchen's over there, bathroom's through there. I'm the door to the right of the bathroom. Let me know if you need anything."

"Yeah, thanks, Seeley," he said, voice soft with a slight smile.

It was a smile I didn't really understand, but it made my heart beat even faster, so I just said, "Goodnight, Ballard," as I made my escape to the bedroom.

"Night, Booth," he called.

I shut the bedroom door, leaning against it as I caught my breath. "What the fuck, Seely?" I whispered, shaking my head. I had noticed Paul, really noticed him enough that I got flustered and my heartbeat sped. As a little thought experiment, I replayed the memory of him getting undressed, cringing when I felt my blood moving southward.

There had to be an explanation right? This had never happened to me before. It _had_ been a long time since I'd been with someone, and I _was_ pretty drunk. That had to be it - a combination of celibacy and beer goggles. By the time morning came around, I would be fine. Wouldn't I?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I didn't get much sleep that night between being out late, all the alcohol, and laying awake thinking about that moment when I had noticed Ballard not as a friend but as a potential romantic interest. It had to be the drinking, right? When my dad would drink, he would turn really mean and violent. Yeah right, Seeley. Drinking lowers your inhibitions far enough to make you notice this guy? Not likely.

In the morning, I hopped into the shower before Ballard was awake, turning the water temperature toward the cold side of lukewarm. Working around Bones lately, since the coma, I'd been taking a lot of these cold showers. But this one was over Ballard? What the fuck?

I got ready and fully dressed before venturing through the living room and into the kitchen to make some coffee. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Ballard stretch as he woke up, shuffling to the bathroom in his boxers and that tight undershirt. Again my blood started to rush at the sight of him. It wasn't beer goggles.

When he came back I turned around, fiddling with the coffee pot so he could get dressed without me watching. Eventually the coffee was ready and I poured two mugs, handing one to Ballard as he found me in the kitchen.

"Thanks, Seeley," he nodded, taking a sip.

"You want milk or sugar?" I asked, suddenly feeling trapped now that Paul was between me and the archway between the kitchen and the living room.

"No, this is good," he said, giving me that same small smile from last night before heading back into the living room to gather up his things.

Why did this situation remind me more of the morning after a date than the morning after getting drunk with a buddy? My head was seriously messed up on this one.

While sipping the rest of my coffee, I made sure I had all my things: wallet, badge, keys, gun, belt buckle, socks, tie – everything. Ballard was soon similarly situated and leaning on a couch arm, waiting for me.

"You want to stop at your hotel before going in?"

"Yeah. If we're going to be canvassing a neighborhood, it would probably be best to have an unwrinkled suit that doesn't smell like the floor of a tavern."

I chuckled, reassured by his moderately friendly demeanor. "That's probably for the best. Is your hotel on the way? My car's still at the office, so we'll have to cab it in."

"Yeah," he smiled. "It's on the way, thanks." He looked at his watch, "Shit, it's getting late. You call the cab and I'll call Ellis to make sure she's alone by the time I get there."

I nodded, again feeling flustered, this time at the thought of sharing a taxi with this guy. Which was stupid, since I suggested it.

Eventually I made it into the office. I called Bones and asked her to meet me at the Hoover building so we could go do our crime-fighting thing around the Port of Baltimore. I specifically didn't mention anything about her date. Or mine.

Fuck. I decided it was time to go see Sweets. I hustled down to his office and barged in, closing the door behind me.

"Agent Booth," Sweets greeted me. "This is a surprise. You know, I don't have much…"

"I think my brain is broken," I cut in, slumping down on the couch and putting my head in my hands.

"Okay. Would you like to tell me _why_ you think this?" Sweets sat in his customary chair across from the sofa.

"I really wouldn't."

"Booth," he admonished, "you obviously came to me for a reason. Why don't you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"It's just… It's really embarrassing."

"Oh. Don't worry. I've had my share of embarrassment. I promise I won't judge."

"Yeah, I bet," I muttered meanly. I really shouldn't make fun of Sweets, but sometimes it's just too tempting.

"C'mon, Booth. Out with it. I have another patient coming in five minutes…"

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I let it out slowly. "Can…could brain injuries change a person's basic…proclivities?" I asked, keeping things theoretical.

"Well, yeah. There was this one case…"

"Great. I'm sure it's a fascinating case, Sweets, but I've got a crisis here."

"Right." I could feel Sweets using his creepy psychologist stare on me, and I refused to look up at him. "Just what 'proclivities' do you think have changed?"

"Maybe who I'm attracted to. _Maybe_."

"Like before the tumor you remember preferring blondes, but now you like redheads?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"How big of a change?"

"Big." Fucking huge!

"I mean, is the change completely opposite from what you felt before, or is it more of a shift along a scale from what you remember and what you're feeling now?"

I thought about that. I still found all the same sorts of women attractive, didn't I? I let my brain call up a few images. Yep, there was that familiar heat down low in my guts. Then I let myself think about Ballard. Same response. Crap. "I guess it's more of a shift."

"Alright, Booth. Now, in order to pin this down, could you tell me what the scale is? I mean, is it size, personality, skin color?"

I shook my head, "No, nothing like that."

Sweets paused for longer than I liked, and I could feel him studying me again. "Gender?"

His guess surprised me, and I determinedly looked away from him, but my lack of a response was answer enough.

"Oh," he said gently. I could tell he was afraid of what I might do to him if he pushed me too hard. Hell, I was afraid of what I might do to him. It might involve shattered jaws and black eyes. Maybe.

"But you said this change was just a shift, by which I'm going to assume you mean you're still attracted to women. Unless you'd like to correct me?"

I felt it was safest if I kept silent, looking anywhere but at this stupid kid of a shrink.

"And you never felt attracted to men before your coma?"

I shook my head silently.

"Is it just one man, or a certain type of man?"

"Just the one."

"Can I ask who?"

"Not yet."

"Okay…" Sweets let me sit for a few minutes while he thought. "Does the thought of two men being together disturb you, in general?"

I thought about that one for a while. Did it? I mean, we were trying to live in more tolerant times, right? "I guess not…" I said. "I just don't know many people who are… Except for my favorite aunt."

"Your aunt?" Sweets asked gently, nodding when I looked up at him, asking me to continue.

"Yeah, my aunt had a roommate, Frannie."

"A female lover."

"Sure."

"And their relationship didn't bother you at all?"

"I said she was my favorite aunt," I pointed out, reminded suddenly of the conversation I'd had with Angela the year before when she was dating Roxie. "I mean, when you have feelings for somebody… I get that."

"But something disturbs you about having feelings for another man?"

I sighed. "Look, Sweets. This is more a crisis of identity than anything else. What if I'm not _me_ anymore? What if the old Seeley Booth is gone? What if I'm never that man again?"

"You know, it's interesting that you say 'man' and not 'person'. Has this attraction been making you feel less masculine?"

I scoffed at his laughable suggestion, "No."

Sweets nodded and I wasn't sure he quite believed my denial. "Are you hoping your attraction to this man will disappear as your brain heals? That you'll get back to being the old Seeley Booth?"

"Yes," I sighed, relieved that he'd finally said something worth agreeing to.

"I'm going to say you're probably right and this is an effect of the brain damage. There is a spectrum that people fall on between heterosexuality and homosexuality."

I cringed at his use of those two words. Was he even old enough to use them?

"However, male sexuality appears to be fixed fairly early on in development and the large majority of men tend to fit either on one side or the other. I mean, there are always exceptions, people who fit in the middle of the scale, like what you're experiencing. It's interesting that with women, that's a whole different story…" I looked up at him, frowning, "that you don't need to hear about right now."

"So in a few more months, when I've had more time to heal, this will just go away, right?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? 'Maybe' is not what I'm looking for, Sweets!"

"I'm sorry, Booth. 'Maybe' is the best I can do for you right now. Maybe there isn't anything wrong with your brain. Maybe _this _Seeley Booth is the _only_ Seeley Booth, old and new."

"But…" That couldn't be the case, could it? My brain had to be broken.

"You said it was just one man. He could be an exception to the rule. One of the very few men you'd be attracted to even before the coma."

"So it's possible this feeling won't go away?"

"Possible, yes." Sweets watched me squirm uncomfortably. "Do you still have romantic feelings for Dr. Brennan?"

"All the time," I confessed. "But you said I shouldn't tell her, and now she's dating this freaking rich, blond architect. And I'm noticing a _guy_. This is not cool, Sweets."

"Have you considered the possibility that you've decided Dr. Brennan is the only woman for you, but upon seeing her with someone else, your subconscious has started looking for possible romantic partners within your same gender?"

"Why?"

"So you don't feel like you're betraying her or your feelings for her by seeking companionship with someone else."

"Nope," I said, shaking my head to push that idea firmly out. "My brain is just broken, Sweets. End of story."

"Okay, Booth. Whatever you say. But you'll come talk to me again if the situation changes?" I didn't want to delve into exactly how the situation could change.

"Fine," I said, getting up and moving to leave the office.

"I mean it. Feel free to come and talk to me whenever you need to, Booth."

"Yeah, thanks, Sweets," I said a little sarcastically, slamming his door shut. That was not the assurance I was looking for. Man, how was I going to look Ballard in the eye? We still had this whole case to work on, Ellis wanted to go canvas the whole Port and Ballard would want me there to help. Dammit, why couldn't I just get my head straight on this one? _Completely_ straight.

_A/N: Let me know what you think. This fic has been getting lots of hits, so I'm hoping that's a good sign. I really had fun writing Sweets and how Booth reacts to him._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When I left Sweets' office and headed up to mine, where I'd agreed to meet Bones, I noticed that I'd missed a call. Checking the history, I noted that it was from Ballard, and he'd left a voicemail.

"Hey, Booth," he said and I fucking shivered at the sound of his voice. "Ellis has an appointment downtown for a...treatment, so I'm gonna drive her. It shouldn't take long, and then we'll meet you in Baltimore. At the Port. Go ahead and get started without us. I'll call you when we get there."

Oh, okay. Wondering what sort of treatment Ellis needed, I found my way over to my office where Bones was waiting for me. I caught her playing with the Bobble-head Bobby on my desk, so I just watched her for a moment. When she smiled at the way the head bounced around on its spring,

I found the edges of my lips rising in response.

God, I loved her. Even with this weird thing my brain was doing, she was my life. My sunshine. But mostly, my partner and best friend. "Hey, Bones," I said, entering the room.

"Booth! Where were you? You know it's very impolite to invite someone to meet you and not be there when they arrive."

"Chill out, Bones," I smiled, and so what if it was mostly fake. "I was talking to Sweets."

"About the case?"

"Uh, yeah," I lied. She didn't need to know about this latest turn in the saga of Booth's Brain. She really didn't.

"What did he have to say?"

Shit. "Uh...he's got nothin'." Moving on quickly, I said, "Hey, why don't we get going? I've had local cops canvassing the area for a few hours already. Let's go to Baltimore and see what they got."

"Aren't your FBI friends supposed to go with us? That was the plan you told me last night."

"Yeah, well," I said, steering Bones from the room with a hand on the small of her back, "there's been a change of plans." I fought the urge to glide my hand back and forth over the fabric of her coat. At least the overwhelming reflex to touch her, to hold Bones was still there. And then I thought of William Cooper, leading her from the bar last night, hand on her coat right where mine sat. Damnit!

I snatched my hand away, and Bones noticed something was wrong, but she didn't ask me about it. Did she actually know how much her going on that date had hurt me? Even if she didn't it was nice to know she picked up on at least some of my body language. Just not enough to realize how I felt about her.

During the drive to Baltimore, I glanced over at Bones now and again. I wanted to ask how she was doing, but I didn't want to hear about her date with that moron, Cooper. Desperate for anything to break the silence, I asked her, "What do you think of Ellis and Ballard?"

It took her a second to pull herself out of her thoughts and process my words. "I find Agent Ellis very unprofessional."

"Yeah, I thought you might. You know, Bones, there is such a thing as cop mouth. I've noticed female officers tend to pick up the worst cases."

"Why would that be the case, Booth? It seems antithetical to all societal norms."

"Yeah, Bones. That's the point. Agent Ellis swears so she can run with the big boys. Be taken seriously as a cop."

"Ohh," she nodded. "Ellis has overcompensated in adapting the behaviors of her peers."

"Exactly, Bones! So could you try to give her a little slack?"

Bones pursed and pouted her lips like she does when she's thinking something over. God, I wanted to pull over and kiss that look right off her face. Instead, I kept driving and waited for her to ask, "By cut a little slack, you mean overlook Agent Ellis' behavior while we work this case?"

"Uh huh. Exactly, Bones."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes until I cleared my throat and asked, "So, what do you think of Agent Ballard?" Maybe if she had something bad to say about him, I could stop thinking about Paul this way.

"He seems fine," she concluded. "Professional and terse."

"Tense?"

"No, _terse_. He doesn't speak much."

"That he doesn't," I agreed, remembering the hours I'd spent with him in that surveillance van and they way he preferred to listen rather than speak. And then I remembered hanging out with him at the bar last night. "At least, not until you get to know him."

Bones nodded, looking out her window again as we continued to drive. Damn it, she hadn't said anything bad about Ballard. Instead, she just sat over there, looking thoughtful and pretty, smelling fantastic. Get a grip, Seeley! You can do this. It's just like any other day, really.

And then it was. Bones and I showed up at the Port and spoke to a Baltimore Police Captain and a Sergeant in the Coast Guard. Apparently there weren't any machine shops directly on the port grounds, but there were plenty ringing around it. And they had yet to find anyone who recognized the picture I'd faxed over of the Washington brothers.

Bones and I moved on to talk to some of the more street-level cops, someone who might have heard about the place we were looking for. Just before I was ready to give up and drag Bones somewhere for lunch, we spoke to a police detective who said, "You know, there is one place we might check out."

"Yeah?" I asked. "You've got a machine shop in mind? Somewhere a person might also come into contact with shipping containers?"

"Well, they do put those containers on flatbed trucks," he pointed out, "and I know a chop shop run by an outfit that's pretty heavily involved in drug running. They may have a hand in this human trafficking ring you're looking for."

"Great! Detective…?"

"Carter, Dave Carter, sir."

"You think it's safe for us to go poking around this shop, asking questions?" I glanced to Bones. She still insisted I take her on field work with me, but no way I was going to put her in more danger than necessary. Not her. Not the woman I loved.

"Naw, but I know some guys who might give us info if we lean on them a bit."

Nodding and hiding my skepticism, I said, "Yeah, okay. Why don't you pick them up and bring them in? I'll talk to them at the station, see what I can't find out. Thanks for your help, Carter." I gave him the smile that usually works on these guys, full of good ol' boy charm.

I knew it had worked when Detective Carter smiled back at me and said, "Sure thing. Happy to help!" before walking away.  
Bones chuckled beside me as we returned to our car.

"What?" I asked.

"Sweets was right. You really are like a salesman."

"What? Why? Why would you say that?"

She grinned at me and stopped walking so I almost ran into her. She pointed back the way we'd come and said, "You just manipulated that detective into doing what you wanted."

"I didn't manipulate anyone, Bones. I asked nicely."

"But you didn't, Booth. You asked him very rudely, in fact. It was your charm smile that convinced him to go along with what you wanted."

"It was? Wait, you picked up on that?"

"Yes," she nodded succinctly, leaving to move back to the car.

I caught her arm and turned her, "I didn't mean to manipulate that guy. I just...wanted him to do as I said..."

She chuckled again, putting her hand over mine on her arm. "It's okay, Booth. I'm coming to realize your charm smile is one of the things that makes you an effective FBI Agent." Bones met my eyes with hers, giving me a look I didn't quite recognize - small smile and sad eyes - and opened her mouth as if to say something else, but then she didn't.

In that moment between when she stopped speaking and when she cleared her throat and walked away from me, I got the impression that she wanted me to kiss her. And God, did I want to! I could just imagine the feathery heat of her lips against mine, the throaty moan she would make when I pulled her closer and gave her the best kiss of her life. I could imagine it all, even the part where I shoved her into the back seat of my truck and ripped her clothes off.

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't take the chance that I didn't really love her. I couldn't take the chance that she didn't love me back. Especially with this odd attraction to Ballard and her relationship with Cooper still fucking things up. I couldn't trust any of the feelings I was having. So when she cleared her throat and turned away, I let her go.

Speaking of Ballard, where were he and Ellis? His message said he'd call me, and here it was almost mid-afternoon. As I slipped into the driver's seat, I checked my phone for any missed calls. Nothing.

"Here," I said, handing my phone to Bones before starting the car. "Try to get a hold of Ballard and Ellis. His number should be in there already."

"Okay," she said, "what should I tell them?"

"That we're having lunch and we'll meet them at the Baltimore PD station."

I pulled out into traffic while Bones operated the phone, leaving a message when she didn't get an answer.

During lunch and the unfruitful interrogations Detective Carter had set up, things fell back into normal between me and Bones. At least we had that. At least we made good partners, if nothing else.

At the end of the day, I tried to call Ballard again, but I only reached his voicemail, just like earlier. "Hey, Ballard," I said into the machine. "Just wondering what happened today. I mean, this is your case and all. Let me hear from you."

While I was walking Bones back to the car so we could go home for the evening, a uniformed cop ran up behind us, yelling, "Wait! Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan!"

"What's up, officer?"

"We just got a call about an abandoned vehicle on the site of a possible homicide. It was registered to the FBI. I thought you'd want to know about that."

"Do you know whose car it was?"

The cop shook his head. "But I did get a VIN." Pulling out a pocket notebook and a pen, he copied down the number for me.

"Why is the scene a possible homicide?" Bones asked as the cop handed me the number.

"We found some blood, and shell casings. Not sure if anyone died, since the only evidence left was that car. Oh, here's where we found the car, if that helps any." He handed me another slip of paper with an address on it.

"Thanks, officer. I'll check it out and let your department know if I discover anything."

"You're welcome Agent Booth," he nodded, "Dr. Brennan."

Once in the car, I e-mailed the VIN to the guy in charge of the motor pool, getting him on the phone at the same time. "Yeah, Booth," the guy said. "That vehicle was checked out by an Agent Samantha Ellis, from the LA field office."

"Great. Thanks, Bill," I said, snapping closed my phone.

"It was theirs. Their car."

"Who, Booth?" Bones asked, concern furrowing her brow.

"Ellis and Ballard. It was their car found abandoned. And we haven't been able to get in touch with them since I dropped Paul off at his hotel this morning." Who could have gotten them? The last Washington brother? Nathan? When had they been taken? Who had been shot? I prayed to God it hadn't been Ballard.

"You dropped Agent Ballard at his hotel _this morning_? Were you out all night after I left? You know, at your age, all night binge drinking could really hinder your performance as an FBI agent."

"Look, Bones. Ellis had company in their hotel room, so I let Paul crash on my couch."

"Oh," she said, satisfied by my explanation. "What sort of company?"

"What do you think, Bones? _Romantic_ company." I didn't tell her that Wendell Bray had been the company. Bones might do something stupid – like fire him – if she found out.

She nodded with that long "Oh" of understanding before she said. "So they're missing?"

"I don't know, Bones. Paul seems like the kind of guy who would call if he was alright. And shots were fired. There was blood."

"So, statistically speaking, they're probably dead."

"Bones!" I cried, exasperated with her attitude. "Don't even think that! We're going to hope that they're both okay. _Aren't_ we?"

"Sure, Booth," she said, backing down as I started the car.

We went to the address where Ballard and Ellis' car had been found, but I didn't see anything relevant that the Baltimore PD had missed. So, I drove Bones back to her car at the Jeffersonian and called Detective Carter, who after I explained the situation with my fellow FBI agents, agreed to e-mail me a copy of the file they had concerning the scene of the crime – the place where Ballard disappeared.

A big part of me was scared for Paul and for Ellis. After I'd been taken by the gravedigger, it became more and more clear how easy it was for someone to disappear. And investigating organized crime could always get you a nice pair of cement shoes if the guys in charge thought you were getting too close.

The tiniest, most shameful, piece of my mind was a little relieved that Ballard was gone and I didn't have to struggle with the feelings I had around him. That's awful, isn't it?

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_A/N: I just finished writing this one and I hope you like where I'm going with this story. If you do, leave a comment. The last one by Grammar Maven gave me the kick in the butt I needed to keep going... Thanks for reading!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: You lucky readers get two chapters in two days, because I am on a roll! Don't expect Chapter 9 to drop any time soon. I still have 15,000 words to write for my Nanowrimo novel in the next week. And to my US readers: have a Happy Thanksgiving weekend!  
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Chapter 8

That night, just before midnight, my cell phone rang. It wasn't a number I recognized, but lots of different people might be calling on urgent matters, so I answered it.

"Booth here," I muttered, holding the phone in place between my ear and my shoulder as I got up to get dressed.

"Booth! It's Paul Ballard."

Shocked, I almost dropped the phone. "Paul! Where are you? The Baltimore PD found your car and there was blood…"

"Yeah, I know. Look, I need a safe place to disappear to for a while. Do you know where I could go?"

"Uh," I said, thinking. Should I…? "Yeah. Yeah, I've got a safe house. I set it up for Bones when there were all these threats against her, but we never had to use it. Let me just make a call, let my superior know."

"No! No, you can't do that, Booth," he hissed. "These guys have their fingers in everything. I can't let anyone else know where I am."

"What guys? Nathan Washington?"

"No, Booth. This is bigger than Nathan Washington." Fuck, he almost sounded scared, something I never would have expected from a guy like him.

I sighed, slipping on my sneakers. "Ballard. Trust me on this, I have to tell my assistant director anyway. I can leave your name out of it and tell him you're an anonymous witness, if it makes you feel any better. Say, is Ellis there with you?"

"No," he whispered, and his voice held back an entire story I knew he wasn't going to relate over the phone.

"Okay," I said, shoving on my jacket and grabbing up my keys. "I'm coming to pick you up. Where are you?"

"I'm…" he stalled for a moment. "I'll meet you at that restaurant. Where we got those cheeseburgers."

"The –"

"Don't say it out loud! Just meet me there in thirty minutes."

"Geez, okay Ballard! I'll be there." Snapping the phone shut, I locked my front door and jogged down the stairs and out to my car.

On the way, I called Deputy Director Hacker's voice mail, telling him I needed to use the safe house for a week or so. I hope I didn't have too much explaining to do in the morning, but I already had the keys to the apartment and it was the middle of the night. It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? And if Ballard needed a safe place to stay, he was a fellow Fed, and I was just doing right by my guys. Not that Ballard was _my_ guy. No, he was just a guy, a friend in trouble, and I was helping him out. Really.

I pulled into the deserted restaurant parking lot, the same place Ballard and I had spent those long hours waiting for Ellis to work her way undercover. As I debated whether I should get out and go looking for him, Paul came out of nowhere and opened the passenger side door, slipping into the seat.

"Drive," he said, looking straight ahead.

It was dark out, but I could've sworn I saw blood on his shirt and a deep bruise on his cheek. But Paul was clenching his jaw and he looked like he didn't want to talk about things just yet, so I let him be and started driving.

We had to get all the way from Baltimore down to Alexandria, where the safe house was. And it was less a house and more of an old townhouse flat, not modern but not quite historic either. On the way, I doubled back a few times, since Paul kept looking back, paranoid that someone might be following us.

When we got there, I used my key to open the door, looking around in all the rooms before nodding to Ballard. There was one bedroom, with a bed and a TV; a small kitchen furnished with a high table and two stools; a tiny bathroom; and a living room with a beat up couch and a coffee table. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it was the best Hacker would let me keep on hand. We'd let a few other agents use the safe house in the mean time, which meant there was at least some canned food left in the kitchen.

"Alright," I said, handing Ballard the key to the apartment, "spill, Ballard. What's going on?" Looking at him in the light, I noted that I'd been right about the blood on his shirt and the bruises on his face. Though, judging by the scrapes and splits on his knuckles, he'd fought back.

"We got jumped. They were waiting for us to show up, and then everything…" Paul took his gun out from his holster and handed the butt to me. "Take this away," he said. "Just…"

Taking the gun from him and checking the safety, I shoved it in the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back and said, "What happened, Paul? What's going on?"

"I…there were these guys, Washington's men I think. Echo and I managed to get away from the first few, but then we got into a fire fight…"

"Someone got shot. Who was it?"

Flashing, his eyes met mine. "Echo. Echo got shot. She…stepped into the line of fire."

Oh, God. "Is she okay? Where is she?"

"It wasn't too serious, I don't think. I don't know! Before they took her away from me, to go to the hospital, they said she would be fine…"

"The paramedics came and got her? Why wasn't that in the police report?"

"Not the city paramedics. _Their _medics came and got her, took her away."

"Whose medics? The Washington Brothers? C'mon Ballard, I can't help you until you start telling me everything."

Nodding with overemphasis, Ballard continued, "Echo and I, our bosses weren't too happy with how things went down. After…they took her away from me, Booth. They took her away."

"Paul…" I said, taking a step closer, confused by everything he was saying. Something strange was definitely going on.

"I'm her handler!" Ballard cried, his voice cracking. "I'm supposed to protect her. She trusts me with her life. But then she stepped into the line of fire. And _I'm_ the one that shot her!" Fuck. No wonder he'd given me his gun. At my stunned expression, Paul took another breath, and I could see he was on the edge of flipping out. I had to talk him down, calm him down somehow.

"Shh!" I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. I noticed his body heat and the way he smelled as I got closer. "It wasn't your fault."

I expected him to throw me off, pick a fight, anything but lean into me.

"But it _is_ my fault, Booth. I should have seen her. _I _squeezed the trigger."

"Paul," I said, turning him by the side of his neck. "Look at me. This was not your fault. You couldn't have anticipated her jumping in front of you like that. And she's alive. She's gonna be fine, right?"

He ignored my question and looked past me, unconsciously putting a hand over mine on his neck. "You're right," he said. "If this is anyone's fault it's Topher's"

"Who's Topher?"

"He's a little geek and I'm gonna kill him. He should have made her better. He should have included the FBI training. I told him NSA wasn't the same, but he said it would be the same. It's not the fucking same!"

"I'm not quite sure what you're talking about. This Topher trained her wrong? Why wasn't she trained at Quantico?"

"Because Echo isn't a fucking FBI agent, she's a doll." Oh, God. Nothing he said was making any sense. He was losing it majorly, starting to snap.

"Hey, Paul!" I grabbed the other side of his neck, looking directly into his eyes. "Keep it together for me, pal!"

"I'm not making sense to you, am I?" He laughed humorlessly.

"No, not really." I smiled at him.

"Sorry. It's just, working with Echo, you never know who you're gonna get."

"She's all over the place?"

He nodded, and then a look of realization spread across his face. "She glitched! That's why she stepped in the line of fire."

"She glitched?"

"I should have seen it coming! I should have realized when she asked if she'd fallen asleep. They always ask!" He started crying again, muttering, "I should have known." He dropped his head, and I met his forehead with my own. My hands were still on either side of his neck, so I slipped them back, lacing my fingers together and pulling him close.

"Hey," I whispered. "It was still an accident, Paul. Just an accident. It's not your fault."

"It's always my fault, Seeley. Always. Every time she gets hurt, or hurts someone. Every time I have to hurt her, it's _my fault_!"

Paul's neck was sweaty under my palms, his shaky breath in my nose and we were so close together that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I felt one of his tears wrap around under his jaw and run along my hand, tickling it, making my chest tighten in empathy. I just wanted to make it all better.

So I kissed him. Don't ask me how I thought it would help. He loved Echo and I loved Bones. But his lips were hard and warm and wet with tears, and it felt nice kissing someone. But this someone was a man. A man who was kissing me back and running his hand up my arm, leaving a tingling sensation behind wherever his fingers touched. It felt so nice. My tongue brushed over his and I got the taste of him, bittersweet, warm, exciting.

Wait! I pulled back and stood up, "I'm sorry. I – I shouldn't have done that." I found my hand brushing my lower lip and quickly snatched it away.

"It's okay," Paul said, wiping the tears from his face.

"No, it's really not." I paced back and forth, hands on my head, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Do you see me trying to punch you or anything? It's fine." Paul didn't seem mad at me, not even a little bit. Could he actually want me? He hadn't done anything to make me think so, except the possibly-more-than-friendly smiles that night we went drinking. It was just friendly, right? Why was I even entertaining the possibility that it wasn't?

"No, it's not fine. See," I tried to explain, "I had a brain tumor and I'm still not quite myself. The real me wouldn't have done that."

"Brain tumor," he said, like he didn't quite believe me. "Uh huh." At least he wasn't crying anymore. "Look," he said, standing to face me, "I need help here Booth, and there's more to this case that I think you need to know."

"I really should leave…"

"I'm not an FBI agent."

"What?" How? Who was he? Why did I still want to wrap my arms around him and kiss the living daylights out of him? I_ should_ feel betrayed, angry with him.

"I was, up until six months ago. I was on this really difficult case, trying to find this underground ring that no one thought existed. Just as I was getting somewhere, the people who run the organization used their substantial influence to get me suspended – fired."

Alright, maybe I was a little curious. I didn't say anything, but I didn't leave either.

"I found them, but they couldn't let me expose their operation. So, they brought me into the fold, got me back in the Bureau just for this case."

"You're a fucking double agent?" I unbuckled my holster, suddenly very suspicious of this man, who I still wanted to do certain things to. Damn it. Ballard put up his hands, trying to convince me he wasn't a threat, especially since he'd already given me his gun.

"I'm trying to bring it down from the inside, Seeley. I'm trying to find a way to get them all out."

"What sort of ring are we talking about? Drugs? Prostitution? Extortion?"

"Have you ever heard of the Dollhouse?"

"Like a little girl's toy? You've got some sort of manufacturing fraud on your hands?"

"No," he said, slowly pulling a file from his bag. "It's a place where rich bastards can order up a custom-programmed companion. They rent out _people_, Seeley. People whose personalities have been wiped away to make room for whatever the client wants. They rent out _dolls_."

"That doesn't seem possible. Why haven't I heard about something like this?"

"They've spent a lot of money and a lot of people making sure you haven't."

"They turn people into dolls, and rent them out to anyone who can pay? Hence the name? Dollhouse?"

"Right. So I work for the Dollhouse in LA, as Echo's handler."

Something clicked. "That's what you meant when you said she was a doll."

"Right. I'm trying to get her out, but most of the time she can't even remember how to tie her shoes. Plus, the resources these people have – the people who run the Dollhouse – you can't get very far away. Believe me, I've tried."

"It's not just Washington after you, is it? You're hiding from them, too?"

"Echo's out of service, and I haven't cracked the case they sent us on. If I don't get some results soon, I might end up in the attic as payment for what I let happen to her." He looked grim, almost afraid, but not quite.

"What's the attic?"

"You really don't want to know."

"What was the case? The one they sent you on… Was it _our_ case? The Washington brothers?"

Ballard handed me a file. "The Dollhouses are all run by the Rossum Corporation. All of their dolls are volunteers, who sign a contract to be used as dolls, and are well paid at the end of their five years. This pseudo-legality is what has kept Rossum from attracting the attention of too many of the higher-ups. Not to mention that most of the people in a position to do anything about it are also clients."

"Disgusting," I commented as I flipped through the file.

"I agree. Anyway, this other group has stolen the technology. They're using it on victims, not on volunteers."

"That's where the Washington brothers come in," I guessed. "Supplying the demand."

"Exactly. So Topher programmed Echo as an agent specializing in undercover ops and it was our job to figure out who the Washington brothers were supplying to."

"Your bosses didn't like the competition."

"These people are renting out at a much lower price, for little or no regard for the health of their actives. I don't agree with most of what goes on in the dollhouse, but they do take very good care of their people."

"What's an active?"

"That's their euphemism for doll. Makes sending them out on 'engagements' more seemly."

I looked over the file in my hands, finding the bits and pieces Ballard had told me scattered around, forming a picture of something I wasn't sure I wanted to get involved in. But these guys were kidnapping and enslaving people, pimping them out to whoever could pay. I had to do something, didn't I? When I closed the file, Paul stepped toward me, and I flinched a little, handing him the file and backing away.

"I really need your help on this, Booth. If not more my sake, for the sakes of all those lost girls and guys who can't remember who they are. For Echo's sake."

I nodded at him, reassuring him that I'd caught his meaning. "I gotta go," I blurted, grabbing my jacket and opening the door. "I'll look into it. Stay here." I didn't even stop to think until I was locked in my car. There was just too much. Too much of this ugly case, too much of me wanting to kiss Paul again.

What was wrong with me? I double checked and yup, the thought of being with Bones was still my dream come true. But why had I kissed Paul? Agent Ballard. I had never kissed a man before, never. Something was definitely wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I didn't sleep at all that night. I mean, how could I with all that info and all those feelings rattling around in my bruised brain? No, sleep was just going to have to wait.

Mechanically, I showered and dressed, picked up coffee, and went in to work, even though it was a Saturday. But it wasn't one of my weekends with Parker, so I figured I might as well work. If I could figure out where this fake Dollhouse was, maybe I could get Ballard on his way back to California safely. If getting him out of my life meant working on a Saturday, that was just fine with me. The less I had to worry about Ballard, the less I had to worry about what my fucking damaged brain would make me do next.

Oddly enough, Detective Carter from the Baltimore PD was waiting for me. "Hey, Agent Booth," he greeted me in the hallway on the way to my office.

"Carter," I nodded, surprised that I'd actually remembered his name after everything that had happened since we'd met yesterday. "What's going on?"

Sitting down at my desk, I took the file he handed me and asked him to sit across from me. "What's this?" I asked as I opened the file.

"All the information about the circumstances surrounding your missing colleagues, updated from what I sent you yesterday. I've been asked to investigate. It seems no one has heard from either Agent Ellis or Agent Ballard since some time yesterday morning and I was told you've been working closely with them on a recent investigation. Is that the case?"

"Uh, yeah," I nodded, noticing in his report that the blood found at the scene was a type match for Agent Ellis. Shit. Ballard had been telling the truth about Ellis getting shot, anyways. And who was I kidding? I'd believed his whole story, still believed it.

Detective Carter continued, "Have you had any contact with either Agent at any time yesterday or today?"

Ballard had told me there were spies from his Dollhouse bosses everywhere. Was Detective Carter one of these spies? To be safe, I decided to tell him only what I'd already told Bones.

"Yeah," I said. "Agent Ballard crashed at my house on Thursday night, since he'd been sharing a hotel room with Agent Ellis, who was entertaining company that night."

"Do you know what company she was keeping?" Carter leaned forward expectantly as he waited for my answer.

"Okay, but if you can avoid telling my partner –"

"Dr. Brennan?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Agent Ellis' companion was one of Dr. Brennan's interns, Wendell Bray. If Bones found out, she'd find Bray's behavior very unprofessional and it might cost him his job."

"Was Mr. Bray involved in the investigation?"

"He helped identify the remains Agents Ballard and Ellis brought in."

Carter nodded and looked back at his notes before asking, "You say Agent Ballard stayed at your apartment until Friday morning?"

"Right. The whole group of us were out at the bar that night and when Ellis told Ballard not to come back to their hotel room, I offered him my _couch_. In the morning, we shared a taxi coming back downtown. I dropped him off at his hotel, so he could get ready and that was the last time I saw him." As Carter wrote this down in his notebook I said, "Oh, wait. He did leave me a voice mail yesterday morning." I played it for the detective, noting the time it had been left, 9:34 am. I kept my trap shut about seeing Ballard the night before. If Paul was in as much danger as he thought he was, I wasn't going to give his location up to some local detective.

Carter finished jotting down everything I told him and stood. "Thanks for your cooperation, Agent Booth. If you could send me a copy of that voice mail, I'd really appreciate it."

"Yeah," I stood and shook the guy's hand. "Anything to help. May I ask why your department is looking in to this? Usually we handle these things in-house when Agents go missing during the course of an investigation…"

"Oh," he smiled. "The Chief managed to insult one of your deputy directors a few months ago and he just wants to make sure we do everything we can to get your colleagues back to you. Get back in his good graces..."

"Ah," I nodded, "politics. Hey, you'll let me know if you find anything?"

"For sure," he assured me, leaving my office as he swept his coat back over his shoulders.

I watched Detective Carter get on the elevators and leave before locking my office doors. Back at my desk, I picked up the land line and dialed the number for the safe house. It took quite a few rings, but eventually Ballard answered, "Hello?"

"Paul, it's Booth," I said, trying to keep the excitement at hearing him out of my tone. "I just wanted to make sure you were still there."

"Yeah, still here," he muttered, voice gruff and scratchy, which made me wonder if I'd woken him.

"Good. Listen," I sighed, "I want you stay there and stay safe, okay? I'm working on this case for you, so don't go out anywhere. I wouldn't want you getting yourself killed. Okay, pal?"

"Seeley," he said pointedly, "I know how a safe house works. Why would I leave?"

"Because…" I was going to say, 'Because of what happened between us' but I stopped, clearing my throat. "Fine. Do you need anything?"

"Not right now," he said and I heard rustling against the phone like he was moving around. "Did you know there was a Bureau laptop here?"

"No. I wonder who left it. Was it locked with a password or anything?"

"Well it _was_," he confessed, making me chuckle. "No. I think I've got everything I need for now."

"Good. That's good." I sighed before continuing, "Listen, some Baltimore PD Detective came around today asking about you and Ellis. He seems legit, but..."

"God, you didn't tell him where I was, did you?"

"No," I scoffed. "As a matter of fact, I also know how a safe house works. I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah, thanks. I did want to know."

I paused, trying to think of something else to say. Something that had nothing to do with his lips on mine, an image that still made me shiver. "I'll let you know if I find anything. Otherwise hang tight. Okay, Ballard?"

"Yeah, okay Booth. Talk to you soon."

"Right," I said, hanging up the phone before I could say anything else.

Later that day, I got word that in light of Agents Ballard and Ellis' disappearances, Bones and I were being moved to a different case. Another dead body to identify. A different case to solve. The human trafficking case got passed to some of our DC Organized Crime Agents. They were all good people, all good at their jobs, but I knew they had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Determined to help Ballard, so I could get him out of that safe house and back home in California where he belonged, I resolved to work both cases at once.

For this new homicide, Bones and I were actually called back to the Port of Baltimore. At the crime scene, I filled her in. "Alright, Bones. Remains were found in the water near one of the dry docks," I said, pointing toward the drop off into the bay, "by a couple of scuba divers."

We approached the body, which had been laid out on the concrete, and I struggled with the sight. Judging by the clothes and the long hair, it was a girl. And around her neck was a heavy iron collar, which must have held her underwater as the rest of her body decomposed. I always hate bodies found in water, they're always so bloated and ripped apart, barely human anymore. And the smell! Yeah, I'm definitely not a squint.

"What do you think, Bones?" I asked, whipping out my notebook so I could write down any relevant facts.

"Uh," she said, inspecting the body carefully, gloved hands hovering over the remains as she searched. "There's still a lot of flesh, so Cam might be more helpful in this situation, but the bone markers I can see indicate Caucasian female." Bones took out a penlight and shone it into the body's mouth, using her fingers to pry apart the jaw very gently. "Lack of third molar eruption combined with the other markers shows she was between the ages of seventeen and twenty-one."

"Damn," I sighed. "Just a kid."

Bones looked up at me with that truly pained expression of hers, brow furrowed, lips pressed tightly together, jaw clenched. She nodded at my words before returning to her examination. She was feeling this one, this death, keenly, I could tell. She was always at least a little upset when an innocent life was taken, but the loss of a young person was always worst. All that potential – and Bones loves potential – gone.

"How long was she down there?" I asked, trying to keep things moving so I didn't have to stand here next to the stinking remains of a young girl for much longer.

"From what Cam has taught me about decay under aqueous conditions," she paused, looking over the body again, "I would have to say no more than three weeks. I can't be much more certain than that. Depending on the rate of scavenging by marine animals…"

"Yeah, okay, bones. I got it. Less than three weeks is good enough for now. We'll have Cam and Hodgins do their thing so we can figure it out more accurately."

Bones nodded, and I'm sure she didn't really hear my words. She was too engrossed in examining the remains, and what little bone was showing amid all the flesh that was left. Eventually she said, "Okay, let's get this one back to the lab."

"You alright, Bones?" I asked as we walked back to the car.

"Huh?" she turned to face me. "Yeah, Booth. I'm okay, just a little out of sorts."

"About what?" Please say that you broke up with that asshole, please!

"We've never been taken off a case before. I don't know how to feel about that."

"Look, Bones," I said, escorting her the rest of the way back to the car with my hand on the small of her back, "we got taken off the case because there's no more murder case. And with Ellis and Ballard both missing, they thought our time would be better spent working this case. And, honestly? I agree."

"So you're not upset? I thought you'd want to keep looking for your friends. I have observed how protective you are of your teammates, especially in hockey, which would lead me to expect you to be more upset."

"My teammates? The other agents in the organized crime unit are dealing with the disappearances of Ellis and Ballard. We don't need to get in their way. Besides, I don't know them very well, Bones." I wish I knew one of them a lot less than I did – or a lot more, damn it. "And my work with you is more important, okay?"

"We_ do_ have a murder to solve," she pointed to the techs loading the body for transport to the Jeffersonian.

"Definitely murder, Bones?" I asked, needing to hear confirmation of foul play before officially starting the case.

She nodded, giving me a small but melancholy smile. "Definitely. There is a lot of trauma to the chest, and to my eyes it all looks like foul play. Not to mention that odd collar around her neck."

"Yeah," I said as I hopped up into the driver's seat of our car. "That's really going to narrow down our list of suspects."

"I find myself wondering whether the collar was used before the victim died, or afterwards, to weigh down the body."

"That's a good question. You know," I smiled over at her as I started driving, "you're really getting the hang of this whole investigation thing."

Bones smiled back at me, making my heart leap into my chest, as she said, "It only took me four years, Booth! Imagine if I weren't a genius…"

Laughing with her I replied, "If you weren't a genius, Bones, we wouldn't make such a good team."

"Thank you, Booth."

"You're welcome, Bones."

We shared another smile as we headed back to the lab so we could start in on this new investigation.

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_A/N: Please review! It only takes a moment... And thanks for reading!_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Here's a mid-week chapter for you guys. I had a little bit of writer's block with this one. I knew what had to happen, but wasn't quite sure how to get there. So read away and tell me what you think. Does it work? Does it suck? Thanks for reading!  
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Chapter 10

Back at the lab, I was trying really hard to pay attention, but I just couldn't do it. Not that day. Not with barely any sleep and the sensation of Ballard's lips on mine still haunting me whenever I stopped long enough to think. Which was a lot, considering the squints take hours and hours analyzing every little detail.

"Booth!" cried Bones in exasperation.

Looking up I said, "Yeah? What is it Bones?"

"You're not paying attention at all! Cam and I are _trying_ to give you our findings so that you may catch whoever did this, but you haven't heard any of it, have you?" Her voice was colored with a mixture of anger and concern, and I think the anger was there because of the concern. Sometimes, especially on the forensic platform, she hates being made to feel anything. Bones thinks it hinders her ability to be objective.

Hell, maybe it did. I was almost certain that my confusion about what had happened between me and Ballard was getting in the way of solving this case. But I really couldn't talk to her about _that_. "Sorry, Bones. I didn't get much sleep last night."

Snapping off her gloves, she pulled me aside and my heart leapt when she touched my arm. "Booth," Bones said, giving me a hard look, like she was really trying to figure me out. "Something is wrong. I'm your partner and I can tell."

"What would be wrong? I'm just tired."

"You're upset about Agent Ballard, aren't you?"

"What?" Where the hell did she get that from? How could she possibly know anything about me and Ballard? Bones stinks at non-literal and non-verbal communication, and now she's psychic? It didn't make any sense.

"You told me you two got drunk together. In our society, such activity acts as a bonding ritual between males. He's your friend, Booth."

"If you say so, Bones." I tried to turn away, to go back to the case, but she stopped me, hand comfortingly tight on my shoulder.

"I think you lied before when you said you weren't upset about those other Agents disappearing. I know if Cam or Dr. Hodgins disappeared, though I feel they are not as close friends to me as you or Angela, I'd be very upset."

"That's different, Bones. You don't know what you're talking about." And if I had my way, she would never find out.

"How? How is it different, Booth?"

Sighing in frustration I said, "You've known Cam and Jack for years, Bones. I've known Ballard for a few days."

Staring at me like she was trying to examine the look on my face and figure me out, Bones eventually nodded. "Can you concentrate on the case? Because if you aren't going to listen and use our findings to catch whoever murdered that young woman, I don't think you should be here today."

"Are you saying you want to work with someone else?" I tried to keep my voice from rising, but it wasn't working. "Is that what you want, Bones? Because if that's what you want, I'll go ahead and call Agent Perotta and you can work with her instead!"

"No!" she insisted. "I only want to work _with you_, Booth." Is it just me, or was there a double meaning in her words? She only wanted me. To _work_ with. Damn it, Seeley, get a hold of yourself. You can't tell her that you love her, even when she says things like that.

"But you're sending me home?"

"If you can't focus, I can't use you here today. I'll let you know what we find as soon as it's relevant, but I think you should go get some sleep."

"Can't sleep…" I muttered, turning away from her.

"Then go talk to Dr. Sweets!"

"I thought you didn't _believe_ in psychology, Bones? Why would you send me to Sweets?"

Bones sighed and looked away from me, something she rarely does during an argument. "Because he's more effective at making you feel better about things."

"More effective?"

"More effective than me alright, Booth? Just go talk to him and don't come back to the lab until he's fixed you."

As she walked away from me, I called, "I'm not a carburetor, Bones! I'm just not that easy to fix!" When she turned to face me, her disappointed look said I was being childish. Infuriated, I decided 'the hell with this' and left the Jeffersonian.

Shit, I had two cases and I couldn't focus well enough to work on either. Maybe Bones was right and I did need to talk to Sweets again. Not that our last conversation had been all that helpful. Or helpful at all.

In any case, I called Sweets and asked him to meet me at the Royal Diner. When I got there, I took a table near the back next to the window. I really didn't need anyone overhearing what I had to say.

"Agent Booth," Sweets greeted me as he entered the diner and sat down. "What's going on?"

"Thanks for coming, Sweets," I said, leaning forward so I could talk to him quietly. "Bones kicked me out of the lab."

"Why would Dr. Brennan do a thing like that?" He signaled to the waitress and ordered a cup of coffee, which she brought right away.

When the waitress left, I answered, "She said I was too distracted and she'd call me when they came up with anything."

"Don't you usually leave the lab when they're examining the body? Go work on something else for awhile?"

"There's nothing else to work on," I lied. "We've been moved off the other case and she's never kicked me out of the lab before."

"Why don't I believe that?" He asked, taking a sip of his coffee before grimacing and adding another packet of sugar.

"Okay, maybe she has," I admitted. "But not for a very long time, Sweets!"

"Would you like me to act as a mediator? Is that why you called me down here on a Saturday afternoon?"

"No," I muttered, shoveling another bite of pie into my mouth. "She says I can't come back to the lab until you fix me."

"What does that even _mean_?" Sweets complained. "You know Psychology -"

"It means she wants you to make me less distracted," I interrupted him, not up to hearing his side of the Anthropology/Psychology debate. "I guess by talking? She wasn't real clear on the details."

"I see. May I ask what's distracting you from your case?"

"Well," I sighed, heart racing as I tried to decide exactly what to tell him. "This is all covered under that doctor-patient confidentiality thing, isn't it?"

Sweets cleared his throat and said, "Yeah! Yeah, of course. Unless you've killed someone," he joked, chuckling shortly before asking seriously, "You haven't killed anyone, have you?"

"No!" I cried. "Why would you even think that, Sweets?"

Blustering, he told me, "Well you do have a penchant for violence, Agent Booth."

"Only when I'm after the bad guys, okay?"

"Okay. Of course," he nodded vigorously. "What is this secret problem that's been distracting you from your work?"

"Don't freak out, okay, kid?"

"Why do you always think I'm going to freak out? I'm a professional, thank you very much."

"Okay", I sighed. You can do this, Seeley. Just tell the shrink what's on your mind and maybe he can tell you how to make it go away. "You remember our talk the other day?"

"The one about making friends, or…the other one?"

"The other one, Sweets."

"I remember."

Sighing again, I said, "What if something happened since then? Something that's gotten me all confused?"

"Something? What something? What happened?"

"I kissed him," I confessed, refusing to look at Sweets' face as he processed the information and instead, focusing on the few crumbs of pie left on my plate. A long moment of silence didn't help the crazy nervous beating of my heart as I pushed those crumbs around with my fork, waiting for Sweets to say something, anything.

"Whoa," he breathed, setting down his cup of coffee. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sweets start out of his surprise with a shake of his head. "Okay," he began as he searched for the words, "and this event made you feel confused?"

"Well, yeah. And it all happened so fast. I mean one second he's crying and telling me what happened and the next second I kissed him. This has to be my broken brain, right, doc?"

"Wait, back up a second. What happened to him? Why was this man crying? Who is he?"

"Shit," I muttered. "I'm gonna have to start at the beginning, aren't I?"

Nodding, Sweets replied, "I think that might be best."

"Okay. But keep in mind that if you tell anyone about this, lives will be endangered, and I'm not just talking about yours."

"Booth. We've been working together for over two years. So you really have to threaten my life in order to trust me?"

"Yeah, I really do," I told him, giving him a long look to tell him I was completely serious. And then I filled him in about what had happened to Ballard and Echo. Eventually, I worked my way around to describing the events surrounding the kiss. I left out the bits about the Dollhouse, because I didn't really want to get into that whole discussion, too.

"So you were comforting Agent Ballard?" Sweets asked. "And that's when the kiss happened?"

"Yeah," I said gruffly, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

"That's not actually all that surprising, Booth."

"What? I'd say that's pretty fucking surprising," I hissed, keeping my voice down as I cursed.

Sweets gave me a disappointed look at the language before continuing, "It's not surprising because you like fixing things, Booth. You like setting everything in order."

"You think I was trying to fix Ballard?"

"I think you were trying to make him feel better about what happened."

I remember thinking, just before I kissed him, that I wanted to make everything better. "Yeah," I muttered, nodding my head. "Yeah, that's what I was doing. But this whole situation is just screwed up, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Sweets asked, doing his whole answer a question with a question shrink thing.

"I mean_ I'm_ screwed up. Isn't that what you told me? That my brain isn't the same as before the tumor?"

"Well, _no_," he said carefully, "not _technically _the same."

Nodding, I pushed back from the table and dug my wallet out of my back pocket. Laying down enough money for my coffee and pie, I stood.

"Where do you think you're going, Booth? You said you wanted to be fixed, so sit down and let me fix you!" The kid was getting all blustery and red cheeked, which only increased my eagerness to leave. But he did have a point. Bones would probably call Sweets before she let me back in the lab, wouldn't she?

Sighing, I sat back down and gave the shrink my attention.

"This confusion about Ballard is distracting you from your work," he started, as if needing to restate the facts before whatever came next was going to make any sense. "Your attraction to him could be caused by the brain surgery and subsequent coma, but could also be due to a number of other factors." I opened my mouth to ask what factors he was thinking, but he held up his hand and I let him continue. "Because of this, your feelings for this man could fade. Therefore," he said, punctuating the word like he was in a debate or something, "I would advise you not to start anything serious with this man."

"Serious?" I asked. "How about I don't start _anything_? And how does that help me from being distracted?"

"If you decide on an agenda, right here, right now, you won't have to think about it anymore." Sweets was trying to be forceful, assertive, but it wasn't really working out for him.

Not quite convinced, I asked, "So I decide nothing else is going to happen, and that's it?"

Nodding, he replied, "That's it."

After looking at each other for a moment, Sweets asked me, "So what's your agenda?"

"Nothing else is going to happen between me and Ballard."

"Good." Sweets smiled that goofy smile of his, the one that I find either amusing or annoying. Right now I was leaning toward annoyed.

"Are you satisfied now, Sweets? Will you tell Bones to let me back into the lab?" I got up, not really wanting to talk to him about this anymore.

"Yeah, sure, Booth," he called as I left, watching me go. Deciding I had to give him some sort of response, I waved at him over my shoulder as I left the diner. Okay. I was resolved that nothing else would happen between me and Ballard. I didn't have to think about it any more. I didn't have to worry about it any more. These odd feelings were just a weird side effect of my brain surgery, and they would be gone soon. Never to return.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The next day, Bones made me take off as well. Though Sweets had given me the go ahead, Bones said they'd been having some issues identifying the body and she would call when they had any new information. Finally, on Monday, I got to see her again. I'd been working at the Bureau and at home, but I couldn't get very far without a victim ID. And then, whenever I tried working on Ballard's case, I kept hitting dead ends. I needed more information than the little I remembered from a quick glance at the file he'd shown me. And even though I had this new resolve – and boy, I was _resolved_ – I really didn't want to test it too soon by going over to the safe house. Give it a few days to marinate, instead.

On Monday morning, I went to the lab even though Bones hadn't called me and ran into Cam first.

"Hey! Cam! Tell me we got something on this body," I prodded her, following her up onto the forensics platform.

"Just in time, big guy," she replied with a smile, gesturing to where Bones and Clark Edison were bent over the now clean bones.

"Hey, Bones!" I greeted my partner. "Cam says you've got something? Please tell me you've got something."

"Yes, Booth," she said, her voice colored with that friendly exasperation I swear she saves just for me. "Clark noticed that the dentistry was indicative of a childhood spent in Eastern Europe, so we had Dr. Hodgins test the bones for strontium isotope ratios consistent with these findings."

"Yeah?" I said, making a hurry-up gesture with my hand. "What did he find?"

"The isotope ratios tell us that the majority of this woman's bone formation occurred in Estonia."

"Which was part of the former, USSR," I remembered, "not far from Belarus."

"Exactly," Bones exclaimed, getting excited that I'd connected the same two dots as she obviously had. God, I love it when she gets excited. Her whole face lights up and her hands shake to emphasize her words like there's just too much emotion and it can only get out one way. This is how I know she's not some non-empathetic cold fish. She's fiery underneath, she just doesn't let it out very often.

Letting our shared moment of realization slide, I asked, "Great! Do we have a sketch or an identity yet?"

"Angela has a sketch," Cam broke in, leading me away from Bones. When I smiled back at my partner, she lit up again, pulling off her gloves and following us to Angela's office. Had she actually missed me? Cam broke back into my thoughts, continuing, "We've had some trouble accessing the missing persons' reports from Estonia."

"Well," I said, pulling my phone from my pocket. "I think I can help with that." I got on hold with the state department as we reached Angela's desk, holding the mouthpiece away and covered with my hand so she would know I was listening to her.

"Here's the sketch," the artist said, turning the paper towards me, Cam, and Bones. The woman in the drawing looked young, carefree, and very beautiful. She had light hair and eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw and chin. What a waste. Smiling, Angela added, "I gave her a big grin. She looked like the kind of girl who liked to laugh."

"Probably not as much, now that she's dead," Cam quipped.

"But, Dr. Saroyan…" Bones started, and I could tell she was getting too literal, so I put a hand on her arm, catching her gaze with a shake of my head. Bones got that 'Oh' look on her face and smiled at me again.

Basking in her glow, I almost missed it when the state department rep came back on the line, "Agent Booth?"

"Yeah? What? Oh," I knocked myself on the head as I turned away from the ladies to talk on the phone.

Half an hour later we had a match. "Katrina Volshka," Angela read from her computer monitor, "nineteen. Missing from her parents' house in Tallinn, Estonia almost nine months ago."

"When did she die?" I asked, reading the translated missing persons' report over Angela's shoulder.

"Between fifteen and twenty days ago," said Cam.

"Cause of death?"

"We're still working on that," Cam replied. "But we know she was definitely dead before she went in the water, because there wasn't any aspiration into the lungs."

"So," I began, "how does a young girl from Estonia go missing from her parents' house and end up dead and dumped in the Port of Baltimore almost nine months later?"

"Booth," said Bones, "you're asking us to speculate on a question we couldn't possibly know the answers to."

"How many times have we talked about conjecture, Bones? Conjecture!"

"I hate to say this," said Angela, watching as we all turned to face her, "but doesn't she seem like a likely victim of the human trafficking ring we were working on for the last case?"

"Right," I agreed. "Just what I was thinking, Ange. Girl from Eastern Europe, not that far from where the Washington brothers have ties in Belarus. Missing from home for no reason. Found in the same area as the brothers' last known location. I'd call that a reasonable conclusion, what do you think, Bones?"

"I think you're assuming many facts not in evidence," she began, but at my look she frowned and continued. "But, I also surmised a relationship between the two cases and I can understand how this conclusion would be a reasonable basis for our further lines of investigation."

"Yes!" I said, clapping her on the shoulder in encouragement. It's taken a long time to get her to this point, to where we can speculate and draw conclusions together without the hard scientific facts she loves clinging to.

"So now," asked Bones, "where do we start?"

"We start," I said, turning her by the shoulders back towards the forensics platform, "by figuring out how and where this girl was killed. Maybe then we can figure out why. Sound good, Bones?"

She nodded at me absently, already searching the remains for any clues that could help us find whoever could do this to a girl named Katrina Volshka, who had a pretty face and looked like she enjoyed laughing.

Now that we thought the two cases were connected, I decided it was time to get more info from Ballard. Keeping my resolve in mind, I made my way to the safe house to go check on him and hopefully to get some help on this case. I hadn't been to the house for three days, and I hadn't called since the morning before last, so I hoped he would still be there. And I hoped he was still safe from Nathan Washington and the creeps from the Dollhouse. Just to be safe, I doubled back a few times on my way, obscuring the route for anyone who might be following me. Safe houses needed to stay hidden for a reason.

Thinking Paul would be pretty sick of canned food by now, I picked up Thai food on the way over. Bringing food didn't count as starting anything, did it? Pulling up behind the house, I grabbed my bag and the food and went to knock on the back door. After some shuffling noises from inside, near the peep hole, Ballard opened it.

"Hey, Booth," he said, stepping back to let me pass. "Long time, no see."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I should have come by sooner. Want some Thai food?"

"God, yes," he sighed, locking the door behind me and grabbing the bag from my hand so he could take it into the living room. I followed him, trying to tell my brain that nothing was going to happen this time. No kissing was going to occur, even though being this close to him and hearing his voice had my resolve wavering.

But when I reached the living room, all thoughts of kissing flew out of my head. The room was completely different from the last time I'd been here. The furniture was all pushed to one side of the room, away from the largest wall. On that wall Ballard put up a huge map of the metro DC area, as well as dozens of photos and index cards and other scraps of paper. Various colored strings connected push pins from one piece of information to another or to a location on the map.

"Glad to see you've been keeping busy," I said carefully.

"Huh?" Ballard asked, already tearing into a carton of food. "Oh, the wall? Sometimes I need a big area to think about a case."

"Well this certainly looks _big_," I chuckled, moving closer to the wall. Everything around the map seemed almost randomly placed, giving it a crazy haphazard appearance. I wondered what Sweets would say about Ballard if he saw this board. He wouldn't say Paul was crazy, would he? "Where did you get all these supplies?"

"Most of them were already here," he insisted. When I gave him a skeptical look, he relented and confessed sheepishly, "And I stopped by the corner drug store for the rest." At my concerned look, he said, "Don't worry, Seeley. I paid cash, so no one will be able to track me here to this neighborhood."

I nodded in response, totally engrossed in the sheer scope of the map before me. Near the left side of the wall, I saw a picture of Echo, with a string line running from a red pin in the corner of the photo to another pin on the map. I took a closer look and noticed he'd marked a location at the Port of Baltimore. "Is this where you last saw her?" I asked, pointing to the push pin.

"Yeah, that's where we got ambushed," he said, through a mouthful of noodles. "Hadn't even found the machine shop we were looking for. All we know is that as of three days ago, Nathan Washington was watching that area of the Port."

He dropped the noodles on the coffee table, joining me at the wall. "These are some of the guys I saw there," he pointed to a cluster of mug shots.

"You went through the online mug books?" I asked. "That must've taken..."

"Almost two days," he nodded, moving on to show me another grouping of papers. "And these are all the addresses I could find associated with at least one Washington brother."

"There must be almost twenty addresses!" I cried, following the lines emanating from that cluster to pins across the map. "And these guys just started business in DC?"

"No," he shook his head. "I think they've been running girls through here for a lot longer than anyone realized." Paul pointed to a few scattered bits of info, a single-minded glint in his eye.

"Okay," I said carefully. "We'll go over everything in a little while," I was using a voice suspiciously like the one I use on Bones when I want her to step away from the work for a few hours. "Why don't we just relax and eat some food while I tell you about this new case I'm working?"

"You're working a different case?" Ballard's brow furrowed in worry. "But who's working this case? I can't crack it all by myself, stuck in this fucking house all day!"

"Hey! Calm down, man," I said, gesturing for him to sit down. "I've got a hunch this new body is connected to your case."

"Oh," he muttered, sitting on the couch. I grabbed a carton of food and sat next to him, telling him about Katrina Volshka and that I suspected she had a connection to the Washington brothers' case. It was nice throwing myself into that, focusing on work even though Ballard was sitting right there next to me, his lips looking more tempting than ever. But no, we were just two Agents, working on a case. With resolve.

Sometime later, Ballard and I were both standing in front of the map, trying to figure everything out. "So, what have we got now?" I asked, keeping my eyes forward as I waited for his response.

"For starters," he said, "we know that these six addresses are machine shops that are close enough to the port."

"Close enough to get a body to the water without hitting too much traffic in between," I clarified, looking over to Paul for his nod.

"Where exactly did you say the girl's body was found?" he asked, grabbing a box of pushpins from the table behind us.

"There," I pointed to the location, as accurately as I could. Ballard stepped closer and our hands brushed as he replaced my finger with a pin in the map. I held my breath, hearing my heartbeat thumping overtime in my ears until he stepped away again. My recovery was almost complete and under control when he came back, pinning a copy of Angela's sketch to the edge of the map with a matching pin. Our eyes met as Ballard wound a piece of string around the pin near him and gave me the end, obviously wanting me to finish it by wrapping my end around the pin marking the place where the remains had been discovered.

Except, our hands brushed again and this time I was frozen in place, looking at Paul, once again holding my breath. I tried to tell myself to snap out of it, to ignore the way Ballard was looking at me and just finish working the case. Instead, I stood there dumbly, holding the piece of string in my hand, forgotten.

There was only a moment of recognition before Paul was right there in front of me, pressing his lips against mine in a way that made me shudder gently. I murmured a surprised, "Mmph," but I couldn't manage to pull away. Instead, I opened my mouth just the tiniest bit and his tongue was there, caressing my lips, my tongue. He tasted faintly of Thai food and cola, but there was a deeper taste as well – something that was just him, something I found intensely erotic. My whole body hummed as my breath and pulse quickened as I returned his kiss, leaning into him.

Apparently encouraged by my response, Paul shifted closer, pulling me by the waist and intensifying the kiss, pressing his body against mine. As my hands found their way to his shoulders, Ballard's scent surrounded me, warm and masculine with a touch of cologne. Six months ago, I would have been indifferent to a smell like this, but now? Now it hooked itself into my fucked up brain as I breathed around our kiss, making me want to get as close to Paul as I possibly could. Sweets told me there was no way to know whether this switch was permanent or temporary. At that moment, as Paul and I pressed our lips together, slowly kneading and brushing and nipping, I didn't know which possibility was worse.

Remembering my talk with Sweets and my previously ironclad resolve, I finally decided to end the kiss, whimpering as I pushed back from Paul. "Damn," I said softly, still not completely free of his embrace, "I wasn't going to let that happen."

"Because of your partner?" he asked, voice still low and soft with a trace of sadness.

"Yeah," I agreed, taking his hands in mine and away from my hips, "she's one of the reasons. Why don't we just finish working here, so I can get at least some sleep before I have to show up at work tomorrow, okay?"

"Right," he said shortly, taking his hands from mine. Without a word, he picked up the loose end of the string I'd dropped and attached it to the pin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "What else do we know about this girl?"

Sighing at the way Paul was now ignoring what had happened between us, I answered him, "Not much. I've got my guy Charlie trying to get in touch with someone who knew her. Maybe we'll know more about her disappearance then."

"And in the meantime, we have to narrow down this list of machine shops. No way a judge is going to give anyone a warrant to search all six."

And then we were back to working on the case, trying to ignore the tension still surging between us. I actually managed to fall asleep on the couch in the middle of reading a file, exhausted by everything that had happened in the past few days, waking a few hours later when the sun rose and Ballard was messing around in the kitchen, trying to brew some coffee.

"Mornin'" he mumbled as I approached, and it looked like he'd slept, too.

"What time is it?" I asked, figuring that was the safest question I could ask. It wasn't 'did that really happen between us last night' or 'can I kiss you again'. No, I'd asked the only safe question I could think of.

"Seven-thirty," he replied, finally managing to get the machine together and perking.

"Crap. I've got to get going. Bones will be expecting me," I said as I gathered up my files and computer. "Have you got everything you need?

"Some more food would be nice…" He seemed upset at my mention of Bones, or hell, maybe at the way I'd shot him down last night, but his tone said he was trying to be friendly anyway.

"Sure," I said, smiling because I just couldn't help it. I desperately wanted to kiss him again, if only to wipe that hurt look off his face. But wanting to make Paul feel better was how I'd gotten into this mess in the first place. I settled for grasping his hand, somewhat more comforting and less like a handshake than I'd intended, as I said, "I'll be back tonight. Sit tight." And then I was out the door, leaving him alone. Again.

* * *

_A/N: Whew! Finally managed to get this chapter rearranged the way I wanted it and hopefully it turned out well. Please don't forget to let me know what you thought of this chapter!_

_~Ptera  
_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I met Bones at the diner for breakfast, without enough time to go home and change before I got there. She was already halfway through her omelet when I sat down across from her. "Hey, Bones."

"Booth," she nodded with a smile. "I was wondering if you'd forgotten we were meeting before work."

"I wouldn't forget," I assured my partner, waving to the waitress for the biggest cup of coffee she could muster.

"Are you okay? You look fatigued."

Chuckling, I replied, "I was just working most of the night, Bones. That's something you're familiar with, right?"

"Of course," she said, taking another bite of her food as I ordered. When the waitress left and I was blowing on my coffee to cool it down, Bones asked, "Are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?"

"Huh?" I asked, looking down. "Oh, yeah. I was working, Bones. Didn't get a chance to go home and change." No need to mention I didn't spend the night in my office, either.

"If I didn't know you so well," she smiled, her eyes brightening with a joke, "I would have guessed you were doing the 'stroll of shame'."

"What?" I asked, almost spilling my coffee in surprise.

"You know," she started explaining, that goofy smile still on her face, "when you spend the night with a romantic partner and have to go home or go to work in the same clothes as the night before." Some of her joking manner disappeared behind, what? Disapproval? Jealousy? "That wasn't what happened, was it?"

"It's 'walk of shame', Bones. And no. No shame involved," I assured her, even as flashes of Ballard kissing me barraged my thoughts. "Just very little sleep."

I thanked God when my phone rang then, breaking the tension. "Yeah, Charlie," I answered, "what have you got for me?"

"Turns out," he said. I could hear the rustle of papers in the background, picturing the way Charlie's desk was always cluttered with a million things at once. "That your dead girl's brother, Kalev Volshka, is here in the states."

"Really?" I asked, avoiding Bones' curious gaze. "Just a coincidence or…?"

"According to the New York field agents that picked him up this morning, he's here on an expired tourist visa looking for his sister."

"Please tell me he's already on his way here."

"You got it, Agent Booth," he laughed, rustling more papers. "One of the agents is driving him down as we speak. He should be here this afternoon."

"Thanks, Charlie," I said by way of goodbye, flipping my phone closed. I relayed the conversation to Bones as my food was delivered, digging in voraciously.

"So," I asked as I ate, "any more leads on how and where our victim died?"

"We found some metallic particulates, which Hodgins is analyzing now. Though I have to admit, I didn't work very late last night, so I haven't been appraised as to Clark's progress with the bones."

"Where were you? Still feeling under the weather?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you, Booth."

I waited for her to answer my other question, but she just looked down, pushing the remains of her food around on her plate. If she wasn't going to tell me why she wasn't in the lab, why had she brought it up in the first place?

"Well," I said, breaking the silence that she obviously wasn't going to, "I'm glad you're not working too hard, Bones. We all need to take a break sometimes."

"We don't usually take breaks during murder investigations, though. I mean, you practically worked all night. And now I feel guilty for being away from the lab."

Part of me wanted to ask exactly what kept her from the lab, what was making her feel so guilty, but it was probably something I didn't want to hear about anyways. So I let it go, acknowledging her guilt with a silent nod and finishing my breakfast. I hated this silence. Usually when there is a silence between us, it's a comfortable one. I missed that.

* * *

That afternoon, Bones came with me to the Hoover Building so we could talk to the brother. I had Charlie seat him in my office, while I prepped Bones. "Okay," I said, "this man's sister is most likely dead. And we know he loves her, so we're not going to pressure him. Just ask him about Katrina. What was she like, did she have any enemies? That sort of thing."

Furrowing her brow, she asked, "How did you come to the conclusion that he loves his sister? We haven't even talked to him yet."

Sighing, I pointed out, "He came all the way from Estonia to look for her, Bones. And he's been looking for her for months."

Nodding, she said, "Okay. I understand your reasoning, Booth. Love does sound like the most likely conclusion. He's going to be upset when we tell him about his sister, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he is." I held open the door to my office for Bones and let her go ahead of me. Once inside, I introduced us both to the man. He had curiously light red hair and freckled skin, and his face was long and sharply edged, his eyes light blue and sad. He had probably figured out we'd brought him in because we'd found his sister, and not in the way he'd hoped.

"So Mr. Volshka," I began, taking another look at his sister's missing person's report, "you've been looking for your sister for almost nine months?"

"No," he shook his head. "The first two months she was gone, I let the police look in to the matter. When they weren't getting anywhere, that's when I come looking for her."

"And what," asked Bones, "made you believe she was in the States?"

"Our cousin, Christian, lives here, up in New York. Six months ago I got a call saying he's seen Katrina there, and she's alive."

"Did your cousin talk to your sister?" I asked, writing down the name 'Christian' in my notebook. "How did he know it was Katrina?"

"He didn't for sure, but it's the only...how you say...lead I've had during this entire search for my sister. It was odd, he said she didn't seem like herself."

"Did he think she was on drugs?"

"No, no," he scoffed, "nothing like that. He said she didn't seem to remember him, and she had an American accent. Katrina was never very good at English." A completely different personality? This definitely jived with the story Ballard told me about what the Dollhouse does to people.

"I notice," Bones cut in to my thoughts, "that for a non-native speaker, your vocabulary is quite well developed."

"Back home, in Estonia, I am a business man, Dr. Brennan. Speaking fluently in English is almost a necessity these days." Bones just nodded in reply and the conversation died awkwardly.

"Mr. Volshka," I said to pick up the pace, catching his eye with a sympathetic look. "We've found a body and we believe it was your sister."

Nodding sadly, the man replied, "I was afraid that was the reason you brought me here, Agent Booth. Are you sure it's her?"

Bones took this question, "We are fairly certain, since the deceased grew up in Estonia and the vital statistics such as age, height, and weight match those of your sister. Though a sample of your DNA would make the identification more concrete."

As the man nodded at her, agreeing to give us his DNA, I shuffled Angela's sketch out of the file and handed it to Volshka. "This sketch is based on the skeletal structure. Is this your sister?"

"I think so," he said carefully. "I mean, it looks like her, but I don't think I ever saw her smiling so big! And she was always moving, never standing still. That's how I remember her. In motion."

"Right," I replied, pulling an evidence bag out of my desk drawer and handing it to him. "Do you recognize any of these effects?"

Mr. Volshka took the bag, turning it over in his hand. "This," he said, pointing. "This was my sister's ring. It wasn't worth anything, but she loved wearing it." A small sob escaped his lips as he fingered the ring through the plastic. "This means she's dead, doesn't it?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Volshka," Bones said, her voice impressively empathetic. "We're so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he nodded, wiping away the tears and sniffing to compose himself. "Thank you for finding her."

"You're welcome," I said, catching his eye and making sure he was ready to continue. "Now, Mr. Volshka, did your sister have any enemies, or even any friends that you didn't approve of? Anyone dangerous?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head vehemently, "nothing like that. Katrina was a good girl. After she graduated from school, she found a job downtown. Then one day, she just didn't come home. The police in Tallinn know all this, but no one knows what happened after she left work that day."

"She just disappeared?" asked Bones.

"I'm afraid so, Dr. Brennan," he answered, a few more tears escaping from the corners of his eyes.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Volshka," I stood and showed him out. "Please go with Charlie, over there. He'll get you situated until we can figure out some accommodations."

"I don't have to go back to Estonia?"

"I'm going to make sure you stay here in town until we figure out what happened to your sister. Afterwards, though…"

"I understand," he said, holding out his hand so I could shake it. "Thank you again, Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan. Thank you."

* * *

"Hey, Booth!" Hodgins called as I entered the lab later that afternoon looking for Bones.

"What's up, Hodgins?"

"How'd things go with the brother?"

"He took it pretty well, considering," I answered. "I spent the whole afternoon wrestling with the state department so they won't deport him until we're absolutely sure he can't be of anymore use to the case."

"Well, this might be useful," he said, pointing to his computer screen.

"What's that?"

"There were metallic particles on Ms. Volshka's remains, and they match those we found on Joseph Washington," he looked up at me with a big smile.

"Don't say 'king of the lab' just yet, Jack. Are we talking the same sorts of particulates, or an exact match?"

"Exact match, Booth. These two people were in the same machine shop shortly before they died."

"How did you manage to get any particles off a body that had been in the water for three weeks?" I asked, suspicious that things might be going just a little too well. I mean, come on. An exact match?

"They were embedded in some of the wounds, Booth. Whatever weapon that woman was stabbed with, it picked up the same particles we found with Joseph Washington. That, and there were some metal fragments under her fingernails and caught in the pockets of her pants, or at least what was left of them."

"So, you're sure ?"

Nodding, Hodgins concluded, "Katrina Volshka and Joseph Washington were both in the same place around the times of their deaths. King of the Lab!"

Chuckling, I said, "Okay, okay. Thanks, Hodgins. Too bad we still don't know where this place is. But I suppose that's where I come in, isn't it?" Looking up to the forensic platform, I asked, "Is Bones in her office?"

"I don't know," he replied with a shrug. "I haven't seen her for a while."

"Right," I said as I walked away from him and toward Bones' office. Why was the door closed? Was Bones sleeping in her office again?

"Hey, Booth," Cam greeted me as she approached Bones' office door. "You here to see Dr. Brennan, too, huh?"

"I just came to say goodnight before I head home. See if you guys had anything new."

"Did you speak to Hodgins?" she asked, reaching for the door.

"Yeah, just finished talking to Mr. King of the Lab himself."

Cam chuckled and pushed open the door, only to pull it back closed right away. Over her shoulder, I managed to catch a glimpse of blond hair and a white hand splayed out on the back of a black suit coat.

"Oh, my God," Cam breathed, keeping her back to the door and watching me intently, blocking my way.

"Was that what I think it was?" I asked her, keeping my voice low, almost in a whisper. My skin was crawling and my chest ached in anticipation of her answer.

"If you think it was Brennan and her new boyfriend totally making out on her desk, then yes it was, Agent Booth."

Clenching my teeth as a sharp pain flooded my whole body, I muttered, "God damn it." Cam and I shared a look, and I could tell she knew I wanted to barge in there and kill that guy. Wring his neck until his eyes popped out and beat his face in with my fists until he couldn't kiss anyone ever again. This must've been what Bones was skirting around at breakfast, that she and Cooper were getting physical now, and she liked him enough to make out in her office, at _work_. And since she kept it from me, she must've known how much it would bother me – how much my fingers would ache to squeeze the life out of the man in her arms. "Can't you do something?" I asked Cam.

"Like what? Forbid her from keeping her door closed?"

"Just knock really loudly. That'll get them to cut it out."

"Oh, no," said Cam, "not with you out here fixing to kill someone. Get lost, Booth. Go take a walk around the block or something, but let me get rid of this guy before you come back."

"But…"

"I would do many things for you, Booth, but being accessory to murder is not one of them. Alright?" Cam stared me down in that way she has, that way that makes you think even though you're bigger and stronger than her, she will still beat you down for arguing with her.

And maybe it was best to just let this go. It really wouldn't do me any good in the long run to go bursting in there and tell Bones how stupid she was for choosing him over me. She didn't even realize I was a choice, and that wasn't something I could just spring on her. When it was time for Bones to know, the truth would come out, as gently as possible. Any other way and I'd definitely lose her for good. Not that this was any better in the mean time. Fuck.

"Yeah, fine," I snarled, thinking I still had to stop by the safe house to check in with Ballard before I went home. "I've got someplace to be, anyways. Tell Bones I said goodnight, and I'll see her tomorrow."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter to you. I've been rearranging how events in my plot line are divided into reasonable chapters, so that took a bit of work. That and working on two other stories and a whole bunch of real-world work at the same time.  
_

_What did you think of this chapter? I'd really like to know, so don't forget to review!._

_Until next time ~Ptera  
_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Through the darkness I first became aware of the warmth. It was dark and warm and there was motion, felt rather than seen. The world was made of taste and touch and scent, nothing more. No light, no sound. Only shaky breath expanding ribs and rolling beads of sweat and that familiar rocking motion. In and out, slippery sliding. Sighs and soundless moans, keen aching want and tingling-wet-rubbing contact. Lips and tongues finding each other unerringly in the darkness. Tasting, licking, sucking salty skin and soft flesh. Arms straining to fight gravity, to keep thrusting, to keep moving. Needed more. Pulsing, thumping blood, lightheaded, muscle memory taking over. Needed something. Moving faster now, pounding. Desperate. Needed something so important. There was a word for it. There were many words for it, but I couldn't remember any of them. All I could remember was a name. And that whispered name was the only sound to break the silence as I found what I needed and brought us both home.

"Paul!"

Wait, I thought, opening my eyes as I woke. That wasn't right, was it? The dream was familiar, but that had never been the name on my lips when I came to. For the past four years, it had always been "Bones." But I'd missed my opportunity with her, hadn't I? I'd let myself be talked out of what I really wanted – her. And now the opportunity was gone, and I was having sex dreams about someone else.

Fine, if she wanted to go sleep with that fuckwit, Cooper, I could dream about someone else, couldn't I? Without feeling guilty about it. Why did I feel so guilty?

Looking over at the clock, I realized it was three in the morning, still way too early to be awake. But there was no way I was getting back to sleep now. Especially when it dawned on me that I'd been having a sex dream not just about someone else, but about a guy. God, those kisses had really gotten to me, hadn't they?

Groaning, I got out of bed and started getting ready for the day, wondering for how long a person could really go without much sleep. Fifteen years ago, in the Army, it had been a lot easier to stay up for days on end, following a target, waiting for just the right shot, having a partner you didn't want to declare your undying love for. Not having sex dreams about one of the guys you were working with. Besides having to kill unsuspecting targets, life had been simpler then.

An hour later, I was showered and dressed, sipping on a cup of really crappy coffee from one of those all night convenience stores as I got to work. On the way over, I'd remembered something Ballard had said last night. I'd brought him more take out, and I didn't stay long, and we didn't kiss again, but he'd mentioned something about the other Dollhouse being underground. Maybe whoever the Washington brothers were supplying to, they'd copied the method of hiding their operation as well as the method of swapping out people's personalities.

I ran a search for any buildings, machine shops or otherwise, in Baltimore, that had been found to have unregistered basements. If someone wanted to hide a bunch of people, especially people who had just been brought into the country and hadn't had their personalities erased, a basement was a good place to start.

I think I nodded off once or twice while I was waiting for the computer to do its thing, but eventually a list of addresses started popping up on the screen. After making myself another cup of coffee in the office kitchenette, I went through the addresses one by one, until I found something. Here was a report from three months ago about a furniture factory – one of those fake Amish places – that was getting a lot of complaints about traffic at all hours of the night. The officers investigating saw lots of men going in and out of the building with pretty women on their arms. There _was_ an unregistered basement there and the Baltimore PD thought it was probably a brothel of some sort, but by the time they got a warrant, everything had been cleared out. Without any evidence to go on, they dropped all but one of the cases. The furniture production was put to a halt because of the fraud, and the shop went under soon after that.

Looking through the file, I copied down the address – which was only four blocks from where Ballard and Ellis had been jumped – and the name of the man who owned the building. He had quite the rap sheet, and something about his mug shot looked familiar. On a hunch, I picked up the land-line phone and dialed the number for the safe house.

"Jesus, Booth," Paul answered after the fifth or sixth ring, "it's five-thirty in the morning!"

"Shit, it is?" I asked, shaking down my sleeve so I could look at my watch. "Sorry, man. I just had a question about the case."

"What do you want to know?" he asked with a sigh that seemed to have more humor in it than not.

Smiling, I answered, "Was Derek Stevenson one of the guys you saw during the firefight?"

"Let me check," he said, and I heard rustling as he moved. "Yeah, there he is. Derek M. Stevenson, born 5-14-63. That your guy?"

"It is, thanks, Paul. One of the buildings that came up in my search belonged to him a few months ago."

"What were you searching for?"

I told him about my hunch, and what I'd found out.

"Good thinking," he said when I was done, and I smiled briefly at his approval. "Are you gonna go check it out?"

"Yeah, I was thinking as soon as Bones comes in, we'd go take a look."

"Man, I wish I could be there." I wished he could be there, too, if only as a Buffer between me and my partner. I definitely wasn't looking forward to the awkwardness of seeing her after knowing what she and Cooper were up to. But I was still waiting impatiently to seeing her, damn it. I couldn't help it.

"Yeah," I answered, almost sadly. "I'll make sure to stop by tonight, and I'll tell you all about it then, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, Seeley. I'm looking forward to it." As we hung up, I shook my head at Paul's words. Was he looking forward to seeing _me_, or to going over the case some more? I was way too concerned with how he felt about me, wasn't I?

* * *

I woke with my face on my desk and Bones prodding my shoulder, saying, "Hey, Booth! I got your text about the case. Booth?"

"Huh?" I mumbled sleepily. "Alright, baby. I'm up, I'm up."

"Booth? Did you just call me 'baby'? You know, I do not appreciate being compared to an infant."

"What?" Oh, shit. I had called her 'baby' again, hadn't I? "No! I said, 'lady'. 'Alright, lady.' That's all!" I wiped a bit of drool from the corner of my mouth and stood up, suddenly remembering the last time I'd seen her.

"Oh. I don't remember you ever calling me that, either. But I suppose it's technically correct, though the connotation –"

"Can we just go work the case, Bones? Please?"

She gave me a hard analyzing look, "Why are you mad at me? Or are you always this grumpy when you fall asleep at your desk?"

"Look, Bones," I started. "I just –," and then I thought better of bringing up her boyfriend. "Can we please just work the case? You know, partners?"

A slow smile spreading across her lips, she said, "Yeah, Booth. Partners." As I was starting to think about how nice it would be to kiss those lips, that image of her behind Cooper the night before flashed into my mind and I got mad all over again. And I had to pretend like nothing was wrong and I wasn't feeling homicidal toward anyone who had ever touched her. At least I've had plenty of practice.

* * *

When I pulled up in front of the building, double checking the address, the first thing I noticed was the auto body repair sign. This place, last on the books as a furniture shop, was now machining auto parts. And there was probably more than a few different types of metal filings in there.

"Booth," Bones said softly, pointing at the sign.

"Yeah, Bones, I saw it too," I replied, putting the truck in park and retrieving my phone from my pocket.

"Hey, Charlie," I said when he answered. "I need a warrant for this address Bones and I were checking out. I e-mailed it to you earlier?"

"Sure, Booth. What's your probable cause?"

"It's a machine shop likely to have the same sorts of particulates as our body, near where she was found, near where Agents Ballard and Ellis disappeared, and belongs to a man name Derek Stevenson, who's one of Nathan Washington's associates, according to my anonymous witness. Probable location of a brothel three months ago, but no evidence was recovered. I know this is more related to our old case, but I'd like you to try for a warrant anyways."

"Ok, great, Booth," he said. "Hang tight, I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Charlie."

Turning to Bones as I hung up, I said, "Might as well call the lab, alert Cam we might need Hodgins to come out and collect samples."

"Sure, Booth," she said, giving me an odd look before making the call.

While we were waiting for the warrant, we sat in silence, watching the machine shop. After ten minutes or so, Bones got antsy and asked, "The shop is open. Doesn't that mean we can just go in and look around?"

"It does," I agreed. "But these guys really don't mess around. I'd rather wait for back up and a warrant before we let them know we're coming."

"So it's to be an ambush attack?"

"Yeah, sort of," I agreed. "I would have gone with 'surprise attack', but you're the writer."

A tense and silent hour later, we served the warrant without incident and Hodgins was taking samples of the metal dust all over the floor. Bones and I took a look in the basement, but it was only serving as a storage facility for car parts. "Hey Hodgins," I yelled up the stairs. "You should probably take samples down here, too."

"What makes you say that, Booth?" my partner asked me as we explored the basement.

"Because this looks like a pretty good place to kill someone without the neighbors hearing, don't you think?"

Nodding, Bones said, "We should look for blood. There could be residual traces left if either victim were killed here."

As she swept the room with an ALS light and glasses and I looked for other evidence, Hodgins and one of the FBI techs joined us. Still scanning the room beside me, Bones cleared her throat and asked, "An anonymous witness told you to look for unregistered basements?"

"No," I told her. "But he gave me the idea."

Taking off her glasses, Bones caught my eye and asked, "When did you talk to this witness? Did I miss out on something during the days when I was ill?"

"No, Bones. This guy's an old friend," I lied. "He's been feeding me some information all week, but he can't come out of hiding. You wouldn't have met him, even if you hadn't been home sick."

"Does he have to be anonymous even from me? You know I'm trustworthy, right, Booth?"

"I thought so," I muttered, thinking about the day before. About how badly she'd hurt me, even unknowingly. If I told her about Ballard, who's to say she wouldn't end up hurting him, too? An awkward slip of the tongue in the wrong company, and those people he's so afraid of might find him. And I couldn't lose him like that.

"What?" she asked, and her eyes looked so hurt, I knew I'd said that louder than I meant to.

"Nothing, Bones. It's nothing. If my witness found out I told you about him, he might disappear, and that won't do us any good."

"I won't tell anyone. I promise." After I stayed silent for longer than I planned, trying to come up with some way to approach this problem gently, Bones asked, "Don't you trust me?" There were tears in her eyes as she took off her yellow shades, and my heart broke at the sight of them.

I was so confused, and that just made me angry again. Angry she made me feel this way, angry she was still seeing that fuckwit, Cooper, angry my feelings for her were getting in the way of whatever I had going with Ballard. So I did the worst thing possible and lashed out at her, "Like you trusted me enough to tell me why you weren't in the lab the other night? Why your office door was closed last night? What you were doing with that fucking moron? You really think I trust you, after that?"

"Why not?" she yelled back at me. "William is part of my private life, not our work. And your reaction to my relationship with him is inappropriate, Booth. You're crossing a line and it's interfering with our partnership."

"_I'm_ crossing a line?" I wanted to tell her she was the one who crossed the line in the first place, when she asked me to father her child. She asked me to be her family, and then when I came out of my coma, barely able to tell which way was up, she took it all back and ran away. Because she wasn't fucking ready. "Fine. Sleep with whoever you want, Bones! You've made it perfectly clear that I have nothing to do with your personal life, so consider me out."

"Out? What does that mean?"

"That means we're just partners, Bones. We work together, we solve crimes together. That's it."

"But, Booth," she was actually crying now. "You're my best friend!"

"I'm sorry, Bones. I can't be…" And then I realized I was about to abandon her. If there was anything that terrified Bones, it was abandonment. And I really couldn't do that to her. I couldn't crush her like that, as much as it hurt to love her, I couldn't do it. Even if she had abandoned me first. "I'm sorry. I'm still your friend, Bones. I promise. No matter what."

"Thank you, Booth," she whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"And I _do_ trust you," I assured her.

"Just not enough to tell me who your informant is?"

"Don't turn this into an issue it isn't, Bones. I trust you. But this witness trusts me, and I can't go back on my promise to him. Not even for you."

"You're still mad at me for something," she realized, moving to catch my gaze in hers.

"Let's not talk about it now," I said, slipping around her and making my escape toward the stairs. "When the case is over, then we can go visit Sweets and he can fix us again. But until then, let's just work this, okay?"

"Compartmentalize?" she asked, with a little bit of a smile, which I found I couldn't quite return.

"Yeah, Bones. Compartmentalize."

* * *

_Review, please!_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I showed up at the safe house, arms loaded with grocery bags and a six-pack of microbrew, kicking the door with my foot instead of knocking. When Ballard opened it, saying, "Hey, Booth," he grabbed one of the bags from my arms and locked the door behind me. "What's all this?"

"Real food," I replied, leading the way into the little kitchen and starting to unpack the bags. "I figured you were probably sick of Chef Boyardee and take out."

"Oh, and you brought beer!" he sighed, taking one of the bottles from the carrier and joining me in the tiny kitchen, reaching around me to open one of the drawers and pull out a bottle opener. I held my breath at the nearness of him, knowing how dangerous it could be if I let myself turn around and lean into him. But I needed to be with someone. I couldn't stay at home alone, going over and over how I'd almost ruined Bones' life by leaving her. I had to talk to someone, and besides Bones, Paul was the only friend I _could_ talk to.

"Seeley Booth," Paul said with a smile as he took a swig of the beer and leaned back onto one of the tall stools at the kitchen table, "you're totally my hero." He tilted the neck of the beer at me in recognition, his eyebrows raised in an expression that made me laugh, despite the gnawing in my stomach that grew every time I thought of my partner. Which was only every ten seconds or so.

"We've got to solve this case soon," I said, emptying the last bag onto the counter, "or you're going to forget how to do things for yourself."

"I don't know," he drawled as I pulled out some vegetables and started washing them. "It's been kinda nice having someone take care of everything for me."

"Paul," I said, giving him a look. "You hate being stuck here, and you know it." I found a cutting board and started searching the drawers for utensils.

"Fine, you're right," he said. "I'm going crazy in here with nothing to do. So I'll help," he offered, setting down his beer and joining me in the kitchen. "Where do you want me?"

Oh, wasn't _that_ a dangerous question?

"Just sit over there out of the way," I said, pointing with a big vegetable knife I'd just found in one of the drawers.

"So now you don't want me to do anything?"

"I don't know, okay?" I said, starting to chop the vegetables. "I'm pissed off at Bones, and I really don't want to take it out on you. So just sit over there and let me cook."

"Booth," he warned, moving his stool over so I could see him when I looked up, "you're going to take it out on your fingers if you don't stop chopping like a mad man."

"Shit," I muttered, trying to focus on what I was doing.

"What did she do? Your partner?"

"You know she's been seeing that guy?"

"The rich one, yeah," he nodded, eyes still on my hands as if he was going to have to apply first aid at any moment.

"She's been keeping her growing relationship with him away from me."

"You'd really want to know?"

"That's not the point," I said, moving on to start chopping an onion. "The point is she wouldn't keep it from me if she didn't think it would upset me. She's always been very open about the men she's seeing, more than I'd ever really want to know. But not this time. This time she's kept quiet about him, because she's finally realized it upsets me to hear it. And she wouldn't realize it upsets me unless she knew I have feelings for her."

"So you're upset because she knows how you feel about her?" Ballard asked, cracking open another beer and handing it to me.

I took it gratefully and replied, "If she knows how I feel about her, but she's dating this other guy anyways, it means she doesn't love me. It's never going to happen and I'm just torturing myself by working with her."

"Or," he pointed out, "she's not sure how you feel about her, and she's trying to get you to admit it and clear up the situation."

"What? Bones doesn't think like that, Ballard. She doesn't play games."

"All women play games," he said. "All _people_ play games, Seeley. It's part of the human fucking condition."

I thought this over as I finished getting everything onto the stove. "I can't think of any time when Bones hasn't been completely upfront. It's more often her honesty and lack of tact that gets her in trouble."

"Then, maybe she's scared of the feelings you have for her?"

"Now _that_," I said, taking another swallow of beer as I covered the pot with a lid, "sounds a lot more like my partner. And it's driving me fucking crazy."

"What are you making?" Paul asked, looking behind me as I leaned on the counter in front of him.

"Spaghetti," I answered, still thinking about how Bones was probably more scared of how I felt about her than anything. "You know," I continued, "she's so bad at dealing with the real stuff, the emotions that really matter. She'd rather just shove everything aside and compartmentalize until there's nothing left."

"At least you know there was something there to begin with," he replied with a significant look.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Sighing, Ballard rearranged himself on his stool and said, "Last year, I thought I knew someone. I thought I knew her really well."

"But you didn't? Who was she?"

"I thought she was my neighbor, my girlfriend," he sighed. "Her name was Mellie and she was cute and sweet, and she loved me so much. Or at least, I thought she did."

"She dumped you?"

Ballard chuckled harshly, "No. She was a doll. They planted a fucking doll across the hall from my home. They made her everything I needed, and I fell for her. Hook, line, and sinker. I fell for someone who doesn't even exist."

"Oh, man," I said. "I'm sorry, Paul."

"So, yeah. Just be glad Dr. Brennan is real, even if it does mean she won't act exactly the way you'd like her to."

"What happened to her, your girlfriend?"

"I got her out. Out of the dollhouse, back to her old life." He finished off his beer and reached for another, cracking it open with a hiss and tossing the cap at the garbage can across the room.

"So she doesn't remember you?"

"Not even a little bit," he muttered, taking another drink.

"Fuck," I cursed, imagining what my life would be like if Bones suddenly didn't remember me, how much it would hurt. And then I remembered saying those awful words to her after waking up from my coma, 'Who are you?' I wondered if that was one of the reasons she was so scared. She was terrified I would leave her, but she didn't realize how much she was driving me away. And right towards Ballard.

"So what about Ellis?" I asked, curious about what she meant to him, whether he loved her or not.

"Ellis is an imprint," he said. "She's not real either. _Caroline_ is real."

"Is that her actual name?"

"Yeah, that's who I was really looking for when I was going after the Dollhouse. Caroline. I wanted to save her from that place."

"Did you know her, before she was a doll?"

Ballard chuckled, almost sadly. "I've never met Caroline. There's only Echo left, now."

"And you're working for the bastards who made her."

"Hey," he said, getting a little defensive. "I didn't have a choice. I had to get Mellie out of there, at least. I couldn't let them send her out on anymore engagements. I just couldn't walk away. Especially not when Echo still needs me."

"When she's not Ellis, does she even know who you are?"

"I'm her handler now," he said. "She's programmed to trust me. But I'm pretty sure it's more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Echo's different. Special. She's not like the others. When Echo gets wiped, she still _remembers_. She knows who I am, and she needs my help with her mission to get everyone else out, to bring down the Dollhouse."

"Starting with this unsanctioned house? The one I've been helping you find?"

"Yeah, Booth. I figure, once we crack this case, Rossum will bring me back in, where Echo needs me to be."

Studying his face, noticing how freckled he was up close, I decided to go ahead and ask him, "Do you love her?"

"I don't know," he replied, looking away. "In any case, I don't have the right. Not when Caroline isn't in there. Not without her. It wouldn't be real. It would just be Mellie all over again."

"Okay," I said, realizing I'd barged into sensitive territory. "I get that, Paul. I do."

"Can we change the topic, Seeley?" he said, getting up and pacing a few steps back and forth.

"Sure. Sure," I held up my hands to let him know I was backing off. I went to the stove and stirred the sauce, checking on it before I turned back and asked, "What would you rather talk about?"

"The case?"

"Right, of course," I nodded, realizing this was probably why he wanted me here in the first place. "Bones and I went to that address I came up with this morning. It turns out it's no longer a furniture shop, but an auto repair shop."

"The kind your guy said our body was killed in?"

"Yeah, hopefully. Nice creepy basement that wasn't on the city records, too. The squints are analyzing the particulates now. I guess Bones found some blood at the scene, but that was after I left."

"You left the scene before she was done looking around?"

"I had to get away from her for a while. Things between us almost got royally fucked up as it was. Cam called me while I was at the store and filled me in." I found my bag and pulled out my computer, opening it and calling up the case files, getting the latest update from my e-mail. "Here," I said, setting the computer on the kitchen table, "look these over while I finish cooking."

We worked in silence for the next half hour, Ballard reading and me cooking. When the sauce was almost done, I put on the noodles and made the salad, throwing myself into something that had nothing to do with Bones and how infuriated she made me. But thoughts of her crept into my brain anyways. It was like an addiction, I just couldn't stop thinking about her.

Finally everything was done and I dished everything up, serving it out on the table, moving the computer away from Ballard so it wouldn't get wrecked.

"This smells fantastic," Paul said, taking the fork I handed him. "I don't think I've ever had homemade sauce before."

"It's better when it can cook all day," I admitted, taking the stool across the table from him.

After taking a bite, he said through a full mouth, "Oh, God, Seel. This tastes even better than it smells." A groan of appreciation low in his throat had my heart beating overtime before I even knew what was going on.

"I'm glad you like it," I said carefully.

"Man, Echo remembers being about thirty different people, and none of them can cook."

I laughed, more at ease now that Paul was making conversation and not guttural noises that would accompany the dream I'd had that morning really well. Goddamn it, now I was thinking about that dream again. At least it had nothing to do with Bones.

"Where'd you learn to cook like this? Not the Army," he scoffed.

"I'm Italian," I said by way of explanation, taking a bite of my food and deciding I'd added too much salt.

"With a name like Booth?"

"Well, half, anyways. On my mother's side."

Nodding, Ballard dug into the food, rounding up and shoveling the noodles into his mouth. We ate in silence, but eventually Ballard's foot found mine under the table, a playful caress. I surprised myself by smiling up at him and kicking off my shoes. Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I dragged my big toe along the bottom of his foot, making Paul laugh and sputter around his food.

Things went on like this for the rest of the meal, trading back and forth between playful kicks and tickles and more sedate caresses. We didn't really say anything, save for the occasional laugh or yelp, but it was fun and kept my mind from thinking about Bones too often.

When we were both done eating, I helped Paul carry the dishes back to the sink. The kitchen was barely big enough for both of us, and though my heart raced at the nearness of him, I found I really didn't mind Paul being in my personal space. Not even when he leaned on the counter beside me with one arm, blocking the way out.

"Thanks for dinner, Seeley," he said softly, just before he kissed me.

"Mmm," I replied, my brain completely short circuiting, though I wasn't so surprised this time. I returned his kiss, pleased by the light pressure of his lips on mine. We kissed a couple of times before Paul pulled back.

"I'm gonna do the dishes," he said. "You don't have to go right away, do you?"

Paul sounded lonely, and it's no wonder, having been stuck in this tiny apartment for several days now. Briefly I wondered if he was only interested in me because I was the only person who knew where he was. The only one who came to visit. The guy that brought him case files and food.

But we had fun together, right? It certainly seemed so. That meant he either actually liked me, or was a very good actor. Not many people can lie to me and get away with it, and Paul's interest felt genuine. Not that I had a whole lot of experience on the receiving end of a guy's attention, but I've been hit on a couple of times, no harm, no foul. And I was really starting to like the ex-agent, mostly as a friend, but also as a little bit more.

"No," I said, finally. "I don't have to be anywhere tonight."

"Good," he nodded, handing me the second-to-last beer. "Make yourself at home. This shouldn't take me too long."

Glancing at my watch, I asked him, "You mind if I turn on the TV? There's a game I was hoping to catch the tail end of."

"Yeah, go ahead. It's in the bedroom."

"Great," I muttered under my breath. Playing footsie and kissing a few times in the kitchen were one thing. But hanging out in Paul's bedroom? That was something else altogether. Remembering that morning's dream yet again, I shivered and decided, "What the hell." If Bones could see someone else, I could hang out in a friend's bedroom and watch a game.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting on the foot of the bed, engrossed in the game as Paul joined me. "Catch me up?" he asked, plopping down beside me and cracking open his beer.

Excitedly, I described the game so far, pausing every now and then to watch the current play. It was a close game, and both teams were decent, so it was fun to watch. Paul listened eagerly and asked all the right questions, surprising me by knowing a lot more about the east coast teams than I thought he would.

"I lived here in Virginia for almost five years, Booth," he reminded me. "All during training at Quantico and a few years afterward."

"When did you get moved to LA?" I asked, turning toward him since the commercials were playing.

"It was only, what?" Paul paused, his eyes rolling to the ceiling as he calculated in his head. "Not quite four years ago."

"Huh," I said, turning back to the TV as the game came back on. We watched the rest of the game, finishing off the beer and trading remarks about players and the head coach. At some point my hand found its way into Paul's, or maybe it was the other way around. But we sat together, watching TV and loosely holding hands and I felt lighter than I had in a long time.

* * *

_A/N: So yeah, this took a long time to get out to you guys. I blame the holidays. :)_

_Please tell me what you thought of this chapter, and don't worry - the next one is pretty much finished. I just have to go over it again, so I should have that one out in a couple of days. And I guarantee, you will not be disappointed._

_~Ptera  
_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I woke up slowly, noticing that my back was warm but my front was quite cold. The room was still dark, so I kept my eyes closed as I tried to fix the problem. The blankets were caught underneath me, so I rolled over, closer to the source of the warmth. It was a person, still sleeping and warm, breathing slowly. I buried my face against the back of his neck, inhaling his scent and thawing the chilled side of my body, wrapping an arm around him and holding him closer. He smelled nice, of soap and shampoo and something uniquely him. Absently, I kissed the back of his neck, and he felt warm against the chilled skin of my lips and nose. Mmm. I liked this dream.

His chest expanded in my arms as he drew a deep breath, stirring awake. He murmured something unintelligible and turned in my arms to face me. An arm slipped around my waist, pulling me closer as his lips met mine. Our lips were dry with sleep and I licked mine to slick them up a little. He hummed again, in appreciation, and pulled on my bottom lip with his. Now the kisses were soft and moist, almost lazy as we woke. His tongue found mine and I recognized the flavor, clouded as it was with sleep and last night's beer. I remembered liking the taste and wanted more. I pressed into his mouth harder, slipped my other arm under his neck and hooked my foot around one of his.

Wait. Him? His neck, his lips, his warmth? I was kissing Paul! And it wasn't a dream. We had fallen asleep watching TV and I hadn't gone home. Instead, I was holding him, kissing him, touching him, rubbing against him. And he was right there with me, holding me to him with a hand on my lower back and a leg up and over mine. And it was really good.

I kept my eyes closed, not caring to face the reality that it was Paul in my arms. I just wanted to keep kissing him, keep holding him. It had been so long since I'd been in bed with someone. There hadn't been anyone since Cam, no one since I realized I wanted Bones and couldn't have her. Well if she was going to sleep with that damn rich boy, I could kiss Paul, right? I could explore his mouth with my tongue, touch every inch of his body, hard and muscled. I could hold him and let him rub himself against me. As hard as my cock was, I didn't think I could fuck him. But I could do this. I could kiss the hell out of him.

Who cared if it was just my broken brain letting me do this? Who cared if he would go back to LA once the case was finished? All I wanted to do was kiss him. And he wanted to kiss me, if his response was any indication.

We kissed until my lips chapped and my thirst was almost as overwhelming as the desire to keep kissing Paul._ I_ wanted to kiss _Paul_. I couldn't still be who I was before the coma, could I? The old Seeley Booth would have punched any man who tried to kiss him, let alone feel him up. As we kissed, I wondered if Paul had ever wanted another man, or if he was just as confused as I was. I mean, I know I'm hot, but I wouldn't have expected to turn anyone. But he was kissing me and I was kissing him and this thing between us felt like it was going somewhere…better.

All the kissing had me rock hard and aching with need; rubbing myself against Paul's leg wasn't doing much to ease the wanting. If anything, it was making things worse. I hadn't been this heavy with anyone in years, and there was all this fucking fabric between us. I pulled up on Paul's shirt and had it halfway off him when my phone rang.

"Shit," I said, pulling his shirt back down and rolling away. I grabbed the phone from the nightstand where I had set it last night. Bones. Bones was calling me and I was here with someone else. I shouldn't feel guilty. She was the one who had gone off with Cooper. I still felt guilty. Damn it.

It was lighter out now, and I could see Paul clearly, sitting halfway up on his elbows. His hair was rumpled and his lips were reddened, swollen. I had done that to him and God help me, he looked fuckable. I gave him a small smile and shrugged before clearing my throat and answering the phone.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Hey, Booth," she said quietly, probably still upset about our fight and the way I left the crime scene. But she would never let that get in the way of an investigation, which must be why she was calling. "Did I wake you?"

"No," I said, standing up and away from the bed. "I'm up." Dear God, am I _up_!

"Hodgins just told me, the particulates from both bodies match the ones we collected from the machine shop."

"Good! That's good, Bones. At least now we know both Joseph and Katrina spent at least some time in that shop." I looked at Ballard and saw his brows rise in understanding. He stood up, going to his board of crazy in the main room. I followed him, pointing to his city map. "Right there," I said softly.

"What? I didn't hear that Booth," Bones said.

"Nothing." I grabbed my shoes from under the kitchen table, sitting on the couch to slip them on.

"Well, I thought you should know, anyway."

"Yeah, thanks, Bones. I'm glad you called. I'll run down some more info on that building, see what I can find."

"So I'll see you later? Lunch maybe?"

"Maybe," I said by way of farewell and hung up. I wasn't sure if I was ready to see her, but we had been partners for four years now. I couldn't just throw that away because we had a fight. And as much as I was angry at her, I was angry at myself for letting her out of my hands. I know, I know, that when I came out of my coma, hell even when she came back from her trip to Guatemala, I could have confessed my feelings and she would have been mine. Instead, I let Sweets and Cam talk me into waiting.

And now I was here with Paul. A minute ago, I had been ready to get naked with him, whatever that meant. I looked over at him, carefully placing a pin in the map and tying a set of strings to it. As he moved, I saw his back muscles slip over one another under his shirt and it made me want to touch him again. Maybe my brain was broken, and maybe he would head back to LA when the case was over, but there was still now.

When he finished with the map, Paul turned back to face me. The look on his face told me he was afraid of what would happen now that we were awake and out of bed. I stepped closer to him, running my hands up his arms and pulling him to me, bellies touching. He put his hands on my hips and I noticed we were exactly eye to eye when I had my shoes on.

"I have to go to work," I said softly.

"You're not freaking out again, are you?" he asked with a smile.

"No, I really have to go. Are you freaking out?"

"No," he said, kissing me. I meant to pull back right away, to gather the rest of my things. Instead, I kissed him back, one hand at the back of his head. His hands slipped further around my waist and locked at the small of my back.

Two minutes later, Paul was backing toward the bedroom, guiding me with him. I pulled back, laughing.

"No, I really have to go. I have," I looked at my watch, "forty-five minutes to change and get to a meeting."

"Fine. Sure." He sighed and released me, going to the kitchen and making coffee.

"I'm going to figure out anything else I can about that building. I'll be back tonight to let you know what I've found."

"I'll be here," he said, a hint of sarcastic humor in his voice.

I caught him and kissed him again quickly. "See you then."

He smiled at me, "Later."

I spent the rest of the day investigating any information about that machine shop that I could get my hands on. Since it had been built, who had owned it and when? Who was employed there during its most recent incarnations? And so on and so forth. All while trying not to think about the man I'd woken up next to that morning. It wasn't going so well.

I actually did screw up my courage and call Bones to see if she wanted lunch. But when she answered, she said, "I'm sorry, Booth. Clark just found some new injuries on the remains, so I have to stay here for the next few hours."

"Dinner, then?" I asked. Even though she pissed me off and even though it looked like I was seeing someone new, I still missed her. I guess I thought maybe dinner would be a good way to mend fences and get things back on the right track. Professionally, anyways.

"Oh. I didn't know you'd want dinner, Booth," she said, actually sounding disappointed. "I've already made plans."

"With Cooper?" I tried to keep the contempt from my voice, but I'm fairly certain it didn't work because Bones got mad at me.

"Yes, Booth! I made plans with William. I'll update you on these new findings when I've got conclusive data." And then she hung up on me.

"Great!" I said, letting my phone slip from my hands and clatter onto my desk. "Just great."

Near the end of the day, I decided I had nothing. Absolutely no piece of information I dragged up about that machine shop could be linked to anything other than the deaths of Joey Washington and Katrina Volshka. Maybe Ballard had been able to find something I hadn't.

I was packing up my things to leave for the day when I heard a knock on the glass of my door. Looking up, I said, "Hey, Cam."

"Booth," she nodded, handing me a folder. "We think we're getting closer to discovering cause of death for our victim."

"Yeah?" I opened the folder and scanned the sheets. "This is all medical mumbo jumbo. What does it say?"

"It says there are puncture wounds on several of the bones of the hands, feet and legs."

"How is that cause of death?"

Cam sighed, flipping to the last page of the report. "There was a final set of puncture wounds on the interior surfaces of several ribs and her left scapula."

I grimaced at the pictures, "Any idea what caused them?"

"That's what Clark is working on right now."

Looking up at Cam, I closed the file and stacked it on top of the rest of the papers I was planning on bringing to Paul. "What else do you want, Cam?" I asked, gesturing for her to take a seat.

She chuckled and sat down. "I was that obvious, huh?"

"If you didn't have something else to discuss, you would have e-mailed me this file like you do all the other files. So, spill. What do you want?"

"Seeley," she sighed, "I'm your friend, right?"

Nodding, I replied, "Yeah. A good friend."

"So, as a friend, I'm asking you if you're okay. About what happened yesterday?"

"The fight? Hodgins told you?"

"Yeah, Booth. The fight." She eyed me while she paused. Taking a quick breath she ended the pause, saying, "You and Dr. Brennan haven't seen each other since then. You haven't worked together at all today."

"Yeah, well whenever I go over there," I pointed out, "I tend to see things I really don't want to see."

She nodded, "Brennan's new boyfriend."

"Yeah. Why do you let him hang around there so much, Cam? Can't you ban him from the building or something?" I gave her my charm smile, "I'd owe you one."

She smiled back, "That's not going to work on me today, Seeley. And you know I can't force these things on Brennan. She'll just get more stubborn about him."

"So letting them make out all over the office is doing me a favor?"

"Yeah, Booth. It is." She leaned forward in her chair, keeping my eyes with her own. "This thing with Cooper won't last, Booth. It will be over before you know it."

"And I'll be there to pick up the pieces, because that's what I always do!" I stood up and paced the width of the office, too frustrated to sit still.

"Are you okay?" she asked, standing to stop my pacing and putting a hand on my arm. "Is this all about the fight, or is something else going on?"

I pointed my finger at her. "You know, you made me wait. Bones and I had our moment and I missed it. And now she's kissing other people and I'm kissing other people…"

"Wait," Cam blinked. "Back up a step. Who are you kissing?"

I was still caught up in thinking about Bones when I said offhand, "I really don't want to talk about him."

Oh, fuck! Cam's mouth dropped open and I felt my face flush.

"Her! Her! I really don't want to talk about her." I knew it was a lost cause as I watched Cam's face process the information. Meekly I sat on the edge of the desk and braced for the shit storm ahead.

"Him?" she asked. "You know, 'him' is a very surprising pronoun here, Booth."

I scoffed. "You think _you_ were surprised?"

"Uh, huh." Cam opened and closed her mouth a few times before she actually said, "Did he kiss you, or did you kiss him? The surprising part, I mean…"

"Both," I sighed, wincing up at her.

"Is this why you've been so upset lately?"

"I don't know," I moaned, dropping my face and rubbing my hands over it harshly, trying to erase this whole conversation, these last few weeks.

Cam came over and rubbed my back, comfortingly. "Hey. Hey, it's okay, Seeley. It's okay."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Thanks, Cam. It's just this whole Bones situation. I mean, he's fine."

"You like this guy?" Cam asked me gently, and I was amazed by the lack of judgment in her voice.

I nodded, giving her a slight smile. "I really think I do."

"Can I ask who it is?"

God, I really wanted to be able to talk to someone about this. Someone besides Sweets. I gave her a harsh look, "You'll keep this to yourself, Cam?"

"Of course," she nodded, putting up defensive hands. "Of course."

I took a deep breath and confessed, "Paul Ballard."

She blinked a few times before asking, "The Agent Paul Ballard that's been missing all week?"

I cringed again. "He's not so much missing as he is in witness protection."

"Ah. And you know where he is?"

I nodded, suddenly flashing back to that morning, saying goodbye to Paul. I almost smiled at the memory, before I realized Cam was still watching me like a hawk.

"What about his partner, Agent Ellis?"

"Now, she actually is missing. Paul knows who took her, and that's why I've got him at the safe house."

Cam shook her head. "I thought for sure Ballard was interested in Ellis."

"Oh, he is," I assured her, earning another of her quick wide-eyed nods of acknowledgment.

"So how far have things gotten with this guy? I mean, you've only known him for a little over a week."

"A week?" I asked, mentally calculating the days. "Hmm. Seems like longer."

"There's been kissing," she checked and I nodded. "Have you…?"

I flushed, thinking about where things were headed that morning. "No!" I took a deep breath and continued, "No. But things might be headed somewhere. And I really don't want to think about … I mean the mechanics are all wrong."

Cam chuckled, "And yet millions of people figure it out every day."

I laughed, surprising even myself. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

After thinking for a moment or two, I asked her, "So what do you think, Cam? Is this thing with Paul just a huge mistake? What would Bones do if she found out?"

"I guess it depends on how serious this gets," she said, sitting down in my desk chair. I turned on the corner of the desk to face her. "He's based out of the LA field office, right?" I nodded. "So this could just be a short-term thing…which, honestly, I think would do you a world of good. Especially if Brennan is seeing someone right now."

"How so?"

"Well for starters, you've been lugging around a wheelbarrow of sexual tension, Booth. Sure, it's great if you're pursuing a normal girl. But with you and Bones?"

"What? Why would that be bad?"

Cam smiled. "I know you, Seeley Booth. You love Brennan so much, that when she finally notices you, you're going to want to romance her properly."

I nodded. "And I can't do that if I'm as frustrated as I am right now…"

"Well, I have faith in you. I think you could do it. But it would be a helluva lot more difficult." She leaned forward in the chair. "But if this guy really wants a relationship with you, something for the long haul, I don't think you can go through with it."

"Because I love Bones…"

Cam nodded. "Unless you really wanna weigh the chances that when you get serious and tell Brennan about you and Paul she won't completely shut down on you, even if she is still seeing Cooper."

"What? She's allowed to see people and I'm not?"

"Emotionally, you're the stronger one here, Booth," Cam noted. "You can handle seeing her in other relationships. I don't think she could."

"What if I'm fucking sick of being the strong one? The one who waits around while she screws every guy in this city that isn't me?"

"Woah, big guy," Cam said, standing up to face me. "Don't yell at me. Go talk to Paul about what he wants. Yeah?"

I hung my head, ashamed that I'd blown up at her. "Yeah. Thanks Cam. You're a good friend."

"You're welcome, Seeley Booth. Now, how's about you walk me out to my car?"

"Sure," I said, grabbing my things and already mentally mapping out my zig-zagging route to the safe house so I could go talk to Paul. And maybe pick things up where we left off that morning.

* * *

_A/N: I just want to say thanks to my faithful reviewers. You guys really stoke my ego so I can keep writing!_

_If you have yet to review, I'd really like to hear from you. I'm planning about ten more chapters, so if you have any suggestions, there's still time to get them in the story. And I know what you're going to suggest, Happyangsty, and hold your horses. I'm getting to it._

_Thanks for reading!_

_~Ptera  
_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

When I got to the safe house, I knew something was wrong almost immediately. Yes, the lights were on and the door was closed, but something just felt off. Maybe the neighborhood was too still, too quiet, or maybe I smelled the blood and didn't realize yet what it was and what it meant. Knowing I should trust my instincts, I pulled my gun, left the bag of food on the stairs and crept up to the front door. Listening for a moment, I couldn't hear anything. No movement inside, no TV on. Nothing even from the townhouse next door.

Quickly, I flung open the door, taking cover and checking for danger before approaching. If Ballard was just taking a shower or something, I was gonna feel so dumb. But then, I realized that the door hadn't been locked before I threw it open. Ballard always kept it locked, even when he knew I was coming.

Moving into the living room, I could easily tell that there'd been a fight. Ballard's map was ripped, a shower of colored pins scattered on the floor below. The couch sat at an odd angle, like someone had been pushed into it, hard. And there were a lifeless pair of legs on the kitchen floor, the rest of the body obscured by the counter.

"Jesus Christ!" I fought the urge to run over there haphazardly to make sure it wasn't Ballard, and every careful, agonizing step toward the body was like a blow to the gut, painful and nauseating. But when you make mistakes and forget procedure, people wind up dead. Or, more people in this case.

Once I had sidestepped into the kitchen, keeping an eye on both the body and the main room, I made myself look down, terrified of who I might find lying there. "Oh, thank God!" I cried aloud when I saw he looked nothing like Paul. This guy was shorter and middle aged, his hair thinning and gray, his suit cheap. Checking again to make sure the coast was clear, I bent down to feel for the guy's pulse.

Yep, he was definitely dead. And cold, ugh. There was a single bullet wound in his chest, probably killed him almost instantly if it went through the heart, which, guessing from the giant pool of blood soaking the kitchen floor, it had.

But where was Ballard? And how the hell had anyone found him? Did he go out again today? Or had I led them here last night? I'd been so angry at Bones, so distracted. I tried to remember whether I'd followed all the proper precautions, whether I'd checked for anyone tailing me. I couldn't remember. I probably hadn't even checked, damn it. I'd probably led Washington's men right to Paul. And now he was probably dead. Probably in one of the other rooms. Fuck. I left the dead guy marinating and continued my search of the apartment. The only point of interest in the whole place was the broken bathroom window, which had a little bit of blood on one of the sharp glass pieces. An elbow through the window during a struggle, maybe?

Okay, I thought, digging my phone from my pocket, at least Ballard isn't dead _here_. No, he'd probably been kidnapped and executed and Bones would have to identify his remains from a pile of bones found in a ditch somewhere. "Fucking fuck!" I said to no one as the phone rang, a tight band of worry harrowing my stomach.

"Hacker."

"Hey, Hacker," I responded. "I've got a situation."

"A situation that required you to interrupt my evening plans?"

"Yeah," I muttered, trying not to huff into the mic. "My safe house has been compromised, my informant is missing, and there's a dead guy here in his place."

"Fine," he replied with a put-upon sigh. "I'll make some calls, send some back up, crime scene, and a coroner."

"I'd like to bring my people in on this."

"Sure, fine! Why not?" he cried jovially and I couldn't quite tell over the phone if he was being sarcastic or not. "The more the merrier!" Okay, that was definitely sarcasm.

"So I won't bring them in?"

"Oh, just go ahead and do your own thing Booth," he said with more than a little exasperation. "We both know you just work better that way."

"Thanks, Boss," I replied, hanging up and calling first Cam, who agreed to come right away, and then Bones.

"Booth?" Bones answered, and I could hear loud voices and the rattling of dishes. Oh, that's right. She was on a date. Oh, well.

"Hey, Bones," I said loudly, so she could hear me over the clatter. "I've got a crime scene. The body's fresh, though, so I don't know if you want to come take a look."

"Is Cam going to be there?"

"Yes," I told her, wishing I hadn't.

"Then why do you-?"

"Look, Bones. My informant has gone missing and there's a dead guy at the safe house. I'd like your help. Please. I'd like to tell you what's going on, so you can help me think this through, okay? Partners?"

"Yeah..." she said slowly.

"Plus," I admitted, fighting to keep my composure, "I could really use a friend right now."

"Oh! Oh, of course," she cried, her tone changing so abruptly I thought it must be a miracle. "I'll be right there. Send me the address, okay? My GPS will get me there very quickly."

I laughed a little, though the situation around me made the laugh cut short. "It's not a time machine, Bones."

"I fail to see the connection between my GPS and a fictional device which has an entirely impossible mode of action, according to modern laws of physics."

"I'll explain it when you get here," I sighed.

"Alright," she agreed and I could almost hear the smile in her voice.

Ballard was _missing_, I realized when I sat down on the crooked couch. Ballard was gone, and the terror I felt at the thought he might be dead was so overwhelming that I just started shaking. "God damn it!" I cried to no one. I should be able to keep it together, to work this thing and find my friend. But instead, I just sat there, my head in my hands, trying not to cry. Why hadn't I stayed this morning? Why had I gone back to work? I hadn't gotten anything done there. I could have skipped the morning meeting with barely any excuse.

I should have fucking stayed. I should have let Paul take me back to bed, doing God knows what together, until whoever came after him showed up. If I'd just been here, I could have protected him. I could have done _something_. But now, I had to sit here, waiting for back up and crying my eyes out over how I'd failed yet another person I cared about.

* * *

Cam was the first to arrive, after the local PD. I'd managed to pull myself together before talking to them, but Cam noticed immediately that something was wrong.

"Booth," she asked, taking me aside after glancing at the dead body. "What's going on here? Your message just said to meet you here to examine a dead body. Did you know him?"

"Cam," I said, taking a deep breath to hold back everything I didn't want to let loose in front of the other cops, "this was Ballard's safe house. He's gone, and that dead guy is involved somehow."

"Oh my God, Seeley," she cried, clasping my hand to comfort me. "I'm so sorry. You don't know where Ballard is?"

"No," I shook my head, taking my hand away from hers. "But I asked Bones to come and I'm trying really hard to keep it together here, Cam."

"You don't want her seeing you all emotional?"

"It'll just freak her out," I sighed, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"Then why did you …"

"I miss her, Cam. I hate not being around her. And I need her here," I replied. "I know it doesn't make any sense, but I guess … I guess when she's looking at a problem like this, she's got this amazing confidence that she'll be able to figure it out. And I need that. I need to find him. I need her. God, I don't know what the fuck I need."

Cam just nodded with a sympathetic little noise, gave me one last encouraging smile, and went back to the dead guy. Silently, I blessed Cam for leaving me be and not continuing the conversation. I'd done my crying already, so right now I had to keep focused and work this. Soon enough, the crime scene guys arrived and I breathed a sigh of relief. Directing them around would give me something to do, something to keep me busy and away from disturbing mental images of Paul lying dead somewhere, ending up on Bones' table.

I was showing one of the techs the broken window with its smear of blood when Bones showed up. She was wearing a dress and heels under her black trench coat and her hair was up, accentuating the big dangling earrings on either sides of her face.

"Booth, I'm here," she said, stopping at the bathroom doorway as she pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket and snapped them on. "What happened?"

Deciding that the tech could handle things without me, I left the room, pulling Bones into the bedroom across the hallway. _Shit_, I thought when my eyes landed on the bed I'd woken up in that morning, guilt rushing back like a freight train. I shouldn't have even brought her here. This was my mess to deal with and she didn't need any part of it.

But then I looked up at Bones and the concerned look on her face, and something broke. "I…"

Bones sucks at nonverbal communication, so she must have seen something very obvious on my face, because she pulled her gloves off and hugged me. She wrapped her arms around my back and I found my forehead resting on her shoulder, tears leaking from my eyes again. I kept my hands at my sides, unsure whether or not I could handle hugging her back, unsure whether the emotion would just scare her further away, until she whispered in my ear, "It's a guy hug, Booth."

I laughed a little through the tears and taking her at her word, let my arms wrap around her shoulders, knowing that even if we'd never be what I wanted us to be, we'd always be friends. And that's what I needed right now – my best friend. Someone I cared about was missing and I needed to lean on her, let her take care of me, at least for a few minutes. So, head on Bones' shoulder, I told her about Paul. I couldn't bring myself to tell her about how physical our relationship was, but I let her know that he was a good friend, someone I trusted, someone I was worried about, and that he'd been helping me with the case.

"How long has he been missing this time?" Bones asked me gently, but I could hear a little bite of emotion in her words that made me pull back.

Slumping down to sit on the foot of the bed, trying not to think about sitting here with Paul, drinking beer and holding hands, I said, "I talked to him this morning." Sighing again, I looked up at her, wishing she would sit down next to me so that side of the bed wouldn't be empty. Not wanting to dismiss the tone in her voice, I asked, "Are you mad at me about what I said yesterday?"

"No, Booth," she replied, sitting down like she'd read my mind. "I'm just a little hurt that you felt you had to keep this from me, that you've been working this without me. Would you tell me if I did something wrong? Something that made you think you couldn't trust me?"

"Of course I would tell you," I replied, trying to look into her eyes and finding I couldn't, because every fiber of my being was telling me to shout at her about dating Cooper, to tell her that I was fucking jealous and how couldn't she see that? But, when I'd told her I needed a friend, she'd come running, and that was a big deal, for her. "I promised to keep this from you Bones, and it was so difficult. I'm just glad it's done with and now you know who my informant was, and now we can go back to working together."

"I'd like that, Booth," she said softly. "I hated having something this big between us."

And she only knew the half of it…

"And I'm sorry you're angry I didn't tell you much about William, but I've observed how you've reacted to my romantic partners in the past and decided that since our working relationship demands a certain level of professionalism, you'd be more comfortable if I left out certain facts." I could tell she was trying to sound focused and logical, but it was coming out more like she was about to cry. "But we're more than just partners, Booth. We're friends. And friends tell each other what's going on in their lives, don't they?"

"Generally," I nodded carefully. "You don't have to give me specific details, Bones. But do you like this guy? Does he make you happy?"

"I think so," she replied. "But I haven't been truly happy in such a long time, Booth, I'm not sure I would recognize it. I'm not sure a single person can have that much of an effect on one's happiness. And if you don't like him …" Bones shrugged, giving me a tiny glimmer of hope that she was close to realizing that Cooper wasn't the one for her. "What about you, Booth? Do you have someone who makes you happy?"

"I don't know," I replied truthfully, thinking about how Paul might just be a moot point, if he was dead. "Maybe. It's too early to tell."

Bones considered my face for a long moment, a look of sad realization on hers. She_ had_ thought I would wait for her forever, until she was really ready. "I hope you do find someone," she mumbled sadly, her illusions dashed at my mention of someone else.

"Me, too," I replied with another sigh, hoping I hadn't fucked things up between us permanently, hoping that someone could be her, eventually. "I'm sorry about crying all over you," I muttered. "I'm just upset that Paul trusted me to protect him from these guys and I probably led them right here."

Bones perked up at the mention of the mystery, a ghost of her concerned but excited expression playing across her face as she asked, "You think they followed you?"

"Maybe," I pondered, playing along with the switch of mood. This is what I needed, why I'd called her here, so she could think through this, getting me where I needed be to make the leaps of intuition that would help us find Paul. "I don't know, really. But how else could they have found him?"

"So you came here in person?" Bones waited until I nodded, hiding the guilt as best I could. "And did you bring your cell phone here when you came? Did you call a land line here from your phone?"

"You think someone hacked my phone?"

"I am not an expert in these matters, though I did incorporate something similar in my last book. The murder victim was found when her wireless phone signal was intercepted, inadvertently leading the killers to her location."

"Fuck," I said, taking out my phone and looking at it. "Oh! And my company car is low-jacked. If they got into the FBI tracking system somehow, they'd know right where I was. This is why I'm FBI and not CIA, Bones. All this cloak and dagger stuff just isn't my style."

"No," she smiled. "You're an upfront sort of man. It's one of the reasons I enjoy working with you."

"Thanks, Bones." I shut my phone, stowing it back in my pocket before I could do something stupid like stomp it into a million pieces for putting Paul's life in danger. "Will you help me find him? Find Paul?"

"Yes, I will, Booth," she nodded, briskly. "Especially since it is very likely that the same perpetrators who attacked Agent Ballard here, also were involved in the murder of Katrina Volshka. In which case, the clues left here will only further our goal of solving that murder."

"Bones!" I cried with a little laugh as I stood up. "Was that conjecture?"

"Yes, Booth. I believe it was."

* * *

_Don't forget to review!_


	17. Chapter 17

**_I posted two chapters today._**_ So make sure you don't miss that last one._

_

* * *

_  
Chapter 17_  
_

The next day, I woke up on Bones' office couch after just a few hours of restless sleep. And I'd had that dream again. The one about Paul. It made me surprised I hadn't woken up in his bed beside him. At least I didn't cry again.

"Please tell me you've got something, Hodgins," I sighed as I approached his desk. "From those particulates in the guy's shoes?"

"Nothing distinguishing," he smiled, "but I did find some interesting fibers on the Mr. Henchman's suit."

"We haven't ID'd him yet?"

"His prints aren't in the database. And is it just me, or have we had way too many dead bodies on this case?"

"One just seems to lead to the next, doesn't it?" I agreed. "But you were saying something about fibers?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded, spending a little too much time looking at my face before clearing his throat and looking away. Damn, was everyone going to figure out how upset I was over Paul's disappearance? "This guy spent a lot of time in one car, based on all the upholstery fibers embedded in his suit. I ran the mass spec and the computer's searching the database now. Then," he said, brightening up a little, "I figure we give the make and model to Angela, and have her recognition software scan the records database for a registration whose face matches our dead guy."

Scoffing with frustration, I said, "That sounds like it'll take a long time."

Looking down and fiddling with the papers on his desk, he replied in a softer voice, "Not that long."

"Fine," I said with a sigh. "Anything helps at this point, Hodgins. Just let me know the make and model when you get it."

"Sure Booth," he nodded, wide eyed as usual.

Walking through the lab toward the bone examination room, where Bones was sure to be, Cam caught up with me, handing me a cup of coffee. "Did ya get any sleep?"

"A little," I replied. "How 'bout you?"

"Nah, just went home to check on Michelle and take a shower."

We reached Bones at the same time, exactly where I'd expected to find her. "Are these still the girl?"

"Yes," Bones replied, looking down her nose at one of the smaller bones. "I'm looking for indicators of where else Katrina may have been kept between when she was taken and when she died."

I nodded, wondering whether it was really Washington who had taken Paul, or if it was his bosses from the Dollhouse who had come after him. I got the impression that he was definitely more scared of the international corporation than of the local low-lifes.

"Oh, Booth," Cam said. "I just talked to your FBI techs on the way back here and they said the blood on the window is a type match for Ballard's and that it was consistant with someone shooting the window, and then jumping out."

"So Paul could still be alive?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "They didn't find any blood outside the window or anywhere else around the building."

"Thanks, Cam," I nodded and gave her a little wave as she left. "So have you found anything yet?" I asked my partner.

"Nothing of consequence," she said slowly, he attention divided between me and the work. Suddenly she took a deeper breath, as if shaking out of her reverie, and asked me, "How are you doing, Booth?"

"Worried," I admitted. "Tired, restless. How 'bout you?"

"Hungry, actually," she said, like it was an odd occurance. "Should we go get some breakfast and then hit the concrete looking for your friend?"

"It's pound the pavement, Bones. And yeah, I'd like that. I've a few more ideas where we can look and who we can ask now that it's morning. Would you like to go home and change?"

"No," she said, tightening her hair in its bun on the back of her head. "I'm fine."

* * *

When I got home that night, Bones and I worked well together all day, but none of my ideas had panned out. No one could find Ballard, either alive or dead, and I was beginning to think dead was more likely at this point. But as I approached my apartment building, I noticed from the street that some of the lights in my place were on. I didn't remember leaving them on. In fact, I distinctly remembered making sure to turn everything off before I left. Either Washington's men or the Dollhouse had found Paul, and now they were here to take me out too. Or, they were going to try anyway. My heart sped up as I drew my gun and carefully mounted the steps upstairs before approaching the door, checking the knob quietly. It was locked, so I took my keys from my pocket, holding them carefully so they wouldn't jangle as I unlocked the door.

Keeping my gun up and at eye level, I opened the door halfway, keeping my body shielded behind the wall. The brick wall offers a lot more protection than a wooden door and it was a precaution I took more by reflex than by conscious thought. I peeked around the wall, noticing that a few things had been moved, but the majority of the possessions in the hallway and living room were in place. Whoever had broken in to turn on my lights had left the front door locked and hadn't taken any of the valuables as far as I could see. Someone looking for information? I tried to remember which, if any, files I had left at home.

As I moved into the apartment, I noticed that the TV was on, the volume turned down very low. Who would break into my apartment to watch TV? And lock the door behind them?

I had my answer when he walked in from the hallway that leads back to the bathroom and bedrooms. "Ballard!" Paul was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that I recognized as mine, and I wondered what had happened to his other clothes. I engaged the safety on my gun with a snap and holstered it as I went to him, grabbing him in a tight hug.

"Hey, Seeley." His sharp blue eyes met mine as we pulled apart, at easy conversation distance, but still touching each other, still with hands on waists and shoulders.

"I was so worried about you!" I told him. "I found the safe-house turned over yesterday and I had no idea where you were. What happened?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. I had to run, and I tried to call you, but I left your number behind yesterday. And after hiding all night and most of today, this was the only place I could think to go."

Needing to shut Paul up and let him know how relieved I was, I kissed him as hard as I could, grabbing his face and pulling him to me. Paul tightened his grip on my waist as we kissed, and then, as I realized how close my body was to his, my heart started beating wildly for a completely different reason. Sure Bones and I were starting to patch things up, but that didn't mean I wanted to give up Paul. Not yet. Not with things between us still unresolved.

When I pulled back just enough to look at him this time, Ballard laughed softly. "I'm guessing it's okay that I broke into your place."

"How did you get in?"

"Seel, that fake rock wouldn't fool anyone."

I laughed before sobering and asking, "Do you know who came after you?"

"Dollhouse," he replied, leaving my side to close and lock the door. "And I really hope they won't come after me here. Not yet, anyway."

Nodding in stern agreement, I took Paul back into my arms as he approached. "And the clothes?"

"I had to make a quick escape and ended up crawling under a fence through some mud. Mine are in the washer." He looked down and I followed his gaze, the sight of our bellies touching sending a thrill up my spine. "I didn't think you'd mind."

Suddenly the thought of him wearing my clothes was pleasing, and I imagined slipping them back off. My body hummed at the image and at how Paul's hands were kneading the small of my back, pressing me against him. I breathed in the scent of him, shivering at how his smell mixed with the fragrance of the fabric softener on my clothes, making him smell like he belonged here. Belonged to me.

I smiled and kissed him again, hard, my grip on either side of his face trembling and just shy of forceful. When had I grown to care for him this much? Why had I missed him so much in the twenty four hours he was missing? I wanted to hold him tightly and devour him before he could disappear again. I wanted to touch him everywhere, just to make sure he was real, that I wasn't just dreaming on Bones' couch again.

So I ran my hands down from his face, over his shoulders and back to his waist as we kissed. I found the hem of his (my) shirt and slipped my hands under it, my fingers aching to touch flesh. Touching his naked back and pushing my hips, my stiffening cock, hard against him, I pulled him against me roughly, need and desire winning out over everything else. Responding to me with increasing excitement, Paul lifted his arms, letting me grab the shirt and pull it up and over his head. I threw the shirt to the floor behind me, freeing both hands to touch his hands, his arms, his shoulders, his chest. While I ran my hands over him, playing with the way his skin jumped and shivered under my touch, Paul pushed back my coat so it fell to the floor and loosened my tie. When he chuckled at the wild print of the tie, his low voice made me shiver and wonder what other noises I could get out of him.

Our lips locked together again and I used mouth and hands and hips to push Paul back towards the bedroom, my shirt falling somewhere in the hallway. His skin was so warm against mine and I found couldn't get enough of touching him. In short order, I backed him so his legs were against the bed, running my thumbs under and along the elastic of his waistband. I couldn't feel any underwear and the thought made me shiver in delight.

"Mmm," he said against my lips, grabbing my hands, "wait. Booth? What is this?" Stumbling out of my haze, I tried to understand what he'd asked me and what he'd meant by it. Paul didn't want me to stop, but he wanted answers. I wasn't sure they were answers I knew how to say.

"I don't...I just..." I sighed and Paul raised his eyebrows at me. Thinking back to the conversation I'd had with Cam about what Paul might want from me, I said, "Paul, I'm not looking for something serious, not right now. But I'm so God damn glad you're okay and I just want to kiss you and touch you and make sure you're real."

Paul nodded, considering my words with a wry expression. Eventually he asked, "Do you want to fuck me?"

"I..." Okay, Seeley. Just man up and say what's on your mind. It's just sex. You don't have to be such a prude about it. "Not really. Not in the...," I had to pause, "… _literal_ sense of the word. But I want to take you to bed. I want to see where this is going." I ran my thumbs up and down the angled clefts between Paul's hips and his stomach. Why had I never noticed how sexy that place was? Probably because it didn't exist on a woman. "Is that okay?" I asked.

Paul kissed me again. "Mmm," he said. "Yeah, that's more than okay. I just didn't want you to expect something I'm not ready for."

"But you're ready for something at least?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, thrusting his hips against me so I could feel his hard on pressing against my belly, the gesture so sexy I almost whimpered. Get a hold of yourself, Seel.

We kissed again, carefully at first, since I think we were both still thinking about what the hell we were getting in to, but soon the kiss grew into more. More tongue, more teeth, more everything. I hooked my thumbs into Paul's waistband again, pulling out to get the elastic past his cock before pushing them down. Paul kicked them aside and kissed me again, unbuckling my belt. My pants joined his on the floor and breathless with excitement and lack of oxygen from kissing, I pushed Paul back onto the bed, the cloth of my briefs still separating us for now.

As we resettled on the mattress, lying out on our sides facing each other, Paul ran his hands down my hips, cupped my lower butt cheek, and then ran his hands back up my ass and lower back. He chuckled, "Tighty-whiteys? I would have guessed you were a boxers man."

"Yeah, well, most of the time," I said, looking down as his hands crept back toward my underwear. "These are just an old habit left over from the Army."

He laughed softly, a sound I was coming to enjoy from him. But then he had me flipped onto my back and raising my hips as he pulled the briefs away.

"Have you ever..." I asked him quietly as he threw my underwear on the floor and lay back next to me, so very close and warm. My skin tingled everywhere it touched his and my breath caught as he drew a hand up the far side of my leg, my thigh, my ribs.

"What?" he asked. "Been with a man?"

I nodded, drawing my arms around him, touching his chest, his shoulder.

"Nothing much more than kissing," he said. "You?"

I shook my head.

"It's okay," he said, kissing me again, searing and bruising my lips with his, making me moan with the pleasure of it. Just like the morning before, his lips fought and caressed and nipped against mine, sending shudders down my whole body, teasing me to reciprocate and use my lips just as creatively. And then, Paul's hand found my cock, drawing a gasp from my throat as he began touching me too slowly, too carefully. When finally his whole hand wrapped around me, sliding and squeezing gently, I groaned low in my throat and dug my fingers into his shoulder. After having been practically celibate for years, it was a toe-curling relief to have someone touching me.

When the initial shock of Paul's touch dissipated, I realized I had been avoiding looking down, avoiding looking at what Paul kept under his pants. But I wanted him, I wanted and needed this so badly, so I finally worked up the courage to break our lips apart and look first at his hand fisting my cock. "Oh, god," I whispered at the sight. His hands were so big. He could keep a thumb on the head of my cock while using the rest of his fingers to stroke down the length of me, all the way to my belly. I'd never been with a woman who could do that. And it was so fucking good.

But I'm not a man who just wants to take. I wanted to give something back. So I turned from my back onto my side next to him and made myself watch my hand run down Paul's belly and over his dick. Finding him unbelievably hard under my touch, I shivered at the thought that I'd been the one to get him this worked up. The sight of him in my hand was more exciting than I would have thought, making something deep in my core keen sharply in joy and relief. The skin of Paul's cock was soft and smooth, almost silky in my hand and he moaned softly as I stroked him, encouraging me to keep going until I found myself mirroring his strokes on my cock.

"Oh, Seeley," he whispered, kissing me on the mouth before trailing his lips away and down my jaw toward my ear and neck. The pleasure in his voice gave me a modest amount of confidence, not to mention how his mouth was inciting a shivering electric fire on my skin that made me forget about everything but the press of skin.

"You like that?" I whispered as I gripped him tighter, stroking along his length, careful to keep just the right amount of friction so I wouldn't hurt him.

"Yeah," he breathed, tangling his feet and ankles with mine as if needing that extra contact. "Yeah, I do."

My whole body hummed and my cock ached for release, feeling harder and harder as Paul touched me, sweeping his thumb over and around my head, over the slit, and stroking up and down my shaft, squeezing just shy of painfully. I tried touching him a few different ways, but he seemed to like it best when I just copied his movements on me. And what movements they were, his hand hot around me bringing me so close to where I needed to be. So damn close. But it felt like something was missing and I gave a frustrated noise.

"What's wrong?" Paul asked, murmuring against my lips.

"You're too far away," I decided, moving my hand to his hip and thrusting against him, gasping at the increased skin contact, at how his whole body slid against mine as we moved together.

"Uh-huh," he agreed, panting against my neck. With a grunt, he let go of my dick, moving his hand out of the way so our pelvises touched, hip-bone to hip-bone and his hard-on pressed against mine, sandwiched between our bellies, increasing the contact even further. I thrust against him, shuddering at the feel of Paul so near to me, from thighs to necks, pressing and sliding, his fingers digging into my lower back.

I sucked in a hissing breath of pleasure when he thrust against me in turn, feeling his abdominals harden with the strain. Arms holding his chest against mine, I pushed back against him, groaning at the sensation as our cocks rubbed together, smooth and hard and so good. He felt incredible in my arms, so warm, so alive and new, so taut all over. Hissing and moaning in pleasure, I was getting close to, but not quite over, the edge as we moved together again and again.

And then Paul fit his hand back between us, grabbing both his dick and mine in one handful and squeezing as he pushed downward. I grunted and then groaned as he pulled back upward, pressing me against his rigid cock, pressing down once more and forcing electric fire through all my nerves as I exploded. "Oh God, Paul!" I growled, panting through my nose and kissing his neck fiercely as I pumped in his hand.

He shuddered in my arms, "Seeley!" and I could feel the sopping warmth of his come joining mine between our bellies. Clinging to each other, it took us a few long minutes of panting and trembling before the world stopped spinning.

When I thought I could handle sitting up without blacking out, I loosened my hold on Paul, giving him a short but satisfied kiss before rolling over and grabbing an old t-shirt from the floor. I wiped myself off and let him do the same, throwing the shirt into the hamper across the room when he handed it back to me.

Paul watched me sink the shirt in the basket and chuckled as I lay back down beside him, rearranging the blankets to cover us, "Three points."

I laughed. "That's right, baby! Three points!"

As we both lay there, looking up at the ceiling, I slid my hand into his and let my head roll over to meet Paul's with a light clunk. "Thank you," I sighed, squeezing his hand. "It's been such a long time since I've done something like that with anyone but myself."

"Better?" he smiled, turning on his side to face me.

I smiled sleepily, pulling him closer so he could rest one arm over my chest, "Much." Paul settled against me easily with a sigh and I found myself relieved to be falling asleep with him again. Relieved that he was within arm's reach, alive and well, breathing slowly against my neck as he drifted off.

* * *

_I couldn't leave these two apart for as long as I was planning to. :)_

_So, what did you think?  
_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18.

What people never really count on is that once you learn how to sleep like a sniper, you can never go back. You're always waking up at little noises, making sure everything's okay before falling back to sleep. It's not the healthiest way to live, but that's why God invented coffee. And, it has saved my life on more than one occasion, including the night I fell asleep with Paul Ballard in my arms.

It must have been two or three in the morning, since everything outside was very still, no traffic, no music coming from the club down the street, no neighbors yelling to each other in the alleyway. Still, peaceful.

Except for the light thuds of footsteps making their way across the hardwood floor of my living room, the boards creaking ever so slightly. As I unburied myself from Paul's arms, glad he was still there and I hadn't dreamed him after all, I wondered how the guy in the other room had managed to get around the locked deadbolt and the security chain. Wait, when Paul locked the door, had he set the chain? I couldn't remember.

I found my pants on the floor at the foot of the bed, taking out my gun before pulling them on quickly, buckling the belt with one hand, and shaking Paul's foot to wake him up.

"Ugh. What's going on, Seel?" he asked in a mumble.

"Intruder," I whispered back, making my way to the wall next to the bedroom door and pressing myself against it, carefully switching off my gun's safety. Paul got out of bed carefully, joining me after grabbing his sweatpants and stepping into them. He didn't have a weapon, but if we could get the drop on this guy, he probably didn't need one.

In my haste to get Paul into the bedroom, I'd left the lights in the rest of the apartment on. Bad for my electric bill, good for us having advantage over this guy. Listening again carefully and watching the light cast onto the far wall from the doorway for his shadow, I came to the conclusion that yes, there was only one intruder in my apartment. And he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

His shadow fell across the doorway and the wall, and I was glad the bed was completely in darkness. The intruder wouldn't know we were awake until it was just too late. The first thing to cross the threshold was a knife, held in a dark leather glove, followed by an arm. He didn't appear to have any other weapons, so as soon as he was far enough past me, I stepped into the doorway and said, "Drop the weapon."

Quicker than I thought possible, the guy turned around, slashing at me wildly before Paul caught his knife arm and twisted the weapon from his grip. I grabbed the knife since I didn't want to kick it away with bare feet and threw it behind me, letting it clatter to rest somewhere in the hallway with the rest of my clothes. While Paul pulled the guy's arms behind his back, I warned, "Lights," before hitting the switch next to the door.

The room now illuminated, and the guy mostly subdued, I asked Paul, "You got him?"

Slipping his arms under the guy's armpits and lacing his fingers behind the guy's neck, Ballard answered, "Yeah, I got him now."

Nodding, I put my gun back in the holster on my belt, walking backwards from the bedroom. "Follow me," I ordered, keeping my eyes on the guy, even when I bent down to grab his knife again. Paul walked the guy, sneering at the back of his head, after me. Now that we had lights on, I saw that the man was middle aged, some of his hair starting to go gray, but he was still tough and muscular looking. And he had been really quick with that knife. A professional, then. Just great.

I watched him like a hawk, even as I went into the hall closet to grab some handcuffs from one of my jackets and a roll of duct tape from the toolbox. I watched him, because there was a chance, just a chance, that he might be able to surprise Paul and get free. And I really didn't want to find out what would happen then.

But he didn't try it, which was probably smart of him, seeing as he was outmatched, even if he could do some damage before going down again. Paul and I handcuffed him, working in tandem to make sure he stayed under control. Then, I sat him down in a wooden dining chair, taping his elbows, knees, and ankles to the chair.

"There," I said when I was finished, taking a seat on the couch opposite him. "Now, you wanna tell me who you are and why you're in my house at … three-fifteen in the morning?"

"Screw you," he said, his voice gravely and low, probably from a life of smoking and drinking.

"C'mon," I growled back at him. "I really don't like it when people break into my house."

Paul laughed a little from behind the guy and I shot him a quick smile that said he was excepted from the rule.

"And I don't like it," the guy sneered, "when my hits get fucked up by damn smart-ass fags."

Getting up and crouching over the guy, I put my face close to his and looked him straight in the eye. "I've got the best forensic scientists in the country wrapped around my little finger," I told him in an even voice, taking out my gun and pressing the barrel to his forehead. "If I shot you, right here, just like this, they could make it look like self defense."

"You're bluffing," he sneered, but there was a twitch in his eye that said he was scared. Damn scared.

"He's really not," Paul told him, a lilt of humor in his voice.

"So why don't you," I pressed the gun just a little bit harder into his skin, "stop calling me names in my own house and start talking? Who was the hit on? Who is your employer?"

For a long moment, the guy just stared me down, tight-lipped, but twitching a little while he tried to make up his mind whether or not to talk.

"Maybe you should shoot his knee first," Paul suggested as he bent down to pick up his shirt, pulling it on to cover up his bare chest. "Give him a little incentive to cooperate?"

I almost shook my head and reminded Paul how much paperwork there would be, but then I realized that this hit man didn't have to know that. So, I casually moved my gun to the guy's right kneecap, saying, "Who were you sent to kill?"

The guy's eyes widened and he looked into my eyes for just a moment before answering, "You."

"Well, there's a surprise," I said, giving Paul a quick glance. "Who sent you?"

The man sighed until I pressed my gun into his leg even further. "The Washington brothers," he said quickly. "They're pissed at you for putting Brian in jail."

"Hey," said Paul in a mock-indignant tone, "I was there, too, you know."

"But no one could find you, Agent Ballard. Fuck, I wish I would have known you were here, I would have brought another guy, taken you both out."

"Yeah, it would have been a party," I said offhand, standing up and giving my gun to Paul. "Keep an eye on him while I get dressed?"

"Sure, Seel," he said with a smile, taking the weapon carefully. He was still skittish around guns, but it was getting better every day.

I dressed quickly, in jeans and a t-shirt, because I was really sick of the suit I'd been wearing for two days straight. Then, I washed my face and brushed my teeth before returning to the living room to find Ballard sitting on the arm of the couch, facing the intruder.

"I don't know what you're getting at, Feeb," the guy responded to something Paul had said. "I just get the message who to kill and where."

"See," Paul replied, handing me back the gun, "I really don't believe you. Not when you seem to know so much about Washington's motives. Not when you know I've been out of sight lately."

"Speaking of," he grinned. "How's that partner of yours? Did ya end up killing her after all?"

"Son of a bitch!" Paul cried, standing up and punching the guy across the face before I could catch him and pull him away. Holding the insides of Paul's elbows with my hands to keep him from lashing out again, I shivered a little at pulling him this close and at the way his muscles tensed and rolled as he tried to break free.

Chuckling, the guy readjusted his jaw and asked, "Does your partner know you're here with Agent Booth? Does she know what a pervert you are?"

Paul struggled to get out of my grip again, until I hissed in his ear, "Don't listen to him, Paul. He's not worth it."

"Yeah," he agreed after a tense moment, relaxing in my arms. "But he knows way too much to be just a hit man."

"I'd guess he works for the Washington brothers full time," I replied, abandoning my hold on Paul's arms and letting one hand settle lightly on his hip. "Maybe we should just send him back there, let his bosses know how badly he screwed up this job."

"Maybe I do work for them, maybe I don't," the guy said, a little more fear in his voice. "But _if_ I did, and _if_ I were to talk – for some sort of deal, mind you – I wouldn't last two weeks."

"Oh, surely a tough guy like you can take care of himself in prison," Paul smirked, but I could still feel him fuming under that smile. "I'd guess by that ink on your neck, you've already been at least once."

"Well, yeah. But that don't mean I'll make it out again. Nate Washington's got so much money these days, he can buy just about anyone in there. Hell, he could probably buy the whole inmate population and still have enough left over for a Porsche and a nice house in the Hamptons."

Paul and I shared a look. Nothing in our files said that Nathan Washington had those kinds of funds. We'd assumed he was a low-level supplier, a black-market merchant of women and guns. But a guy doesn't get that much dough being a middle man. "Where did he get all this money?"

"Shit, man," the intruder whined. "I've already told you more than I should have! Nate's brothers … brother don't know he's got so much."

Intrigued, I left Paul's side and crouched down next to the chair. "We can help you. We can keep you safe from Nathan, but only if you tell us everything you know."

"I want a letter, a whatchacallit from the DA, before I say anything else. And don't put me in no holding cell, either. I can't help you if I'm dead."

"Fine," I said, looking up to Paul and saying, "I think it's time we bring this guy in."

"I don't know if I can come with you, Booth," he replied, pulling me into the kitchen and out of the hit man's hearing. "I'm sure the Dollhouse has people in the FBI."

"That's probably how they found you," I admitted. "Since my car's low-jacked."

"Shit."

"Yeah. But I don't want to leave you here, either. At least at the Bureau offices, there's more security."

"Fine," Paul nodded, "maybe it would be better to be in the public eye, at least until I get the info that's gonna buy me back in to the Dollhouse."

"Alright," I replied, conflicted over whether I wanted to solve the case so Paul would be safe again, or leave it open so he wouldn't go back to LA. But I knew I wanted to end up with Bones eventually, so it was better if I not get too attached to Paul, wasn't it? Best just to solve the case as quickly as possible?

* * *

After sitting Paul and the hit man, who'd finally confessed his name – Bertram Lewis – in an interrogation room, I met Sweets and Bones on the other side of the glass.

"So Agent Ballard and Mr. Lewis both broke in to your apartment last night?" Bones asked me, in a tone that said she thought my home security was lacking.

"Paul was looking for help and a place to hide," I explained, "and Mr. Lewis expected to find me alone in the apartment." Not to mention alone in bed…

"You said this man insists he was hired by Nathan Washington to kill you?" Sweets asked me, pointing to the man shackled in the interrogation room.

"Yeah," I replied. "What are you thinking, Sweets?"

"Why would Washington risk killing a Federal Officer? It's a pretty extreme move."

"Revenge, maybe. I'm the one who arrested his brother. And Bones, your team identified his other brother's remains, the ones whose identity he wanted to keep hidden."

"I don't know, Booth," Sweets shook his head and pursed his lips. "Revenge?"

"Lewis also says Nathan's got big stash of money that his brothers don't know about. Maybe he's afraid I'd find the money, and then his brother would turn on him. Rat him out?"

"That makes sense," Bones nodded. "It is a human imperative to protect first one's children, then one's self, and finally one's immediate family, such as siblings. Nathan Washington would rather kill Booth and keep his money a secret than have to kill Brian when he found out his brother betrayed him in anger."

"See?" I smiled at Sweets. "That makes sense, too. Good idea, Bones."

"Thank you, Booth."

"Shall we then?" I asked, opening the door for Bones and letting her step ahead of me.

"Oh, and Sweets?"

"Yeah, Booth?"

"This guy's a cold customer. So far I've been doing okay reading him, but if you could tell me if you think he's lying, I'd appreciate that." I tapped on my earpiece, to let him know he could talk to me through the mic.

"Sure," Sweets said, stopping me from following Bones with a hand on my arm. "Are you okay with Agent Ballard showing up at your home the way he did? I mean, you had an agenda. How's that going for you?"

"Yeah, that damn agenda didn't last very long."

"What are you saying Booth? Something has happened between you and Ballard?"

"Don't worry, Sweets," I sighed. "It's nothing serious."

"Are you sure?"

Swallowing my doubts and making my voice as clear as possible, I replied, "I'm sure. Now just give me a hand with the interrogation, would you please, Sweets?"

The shrink nodded with a sigh and let me go.

"Alright, Mr. Lewis," I said as Bones and I joined Paul and the suspect in the interrogation room. "This is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"Oh, really?" he smiled and winked at her. "And here I thought Agent Ballard was your _partner_?"

Ignoring the hit man's suggestive comment, I sat down between Bones and Paul and replied, "You got your letter from the US Attorney's office, Bert." I pulled the folder with the letter in it towards me across the table. "Now start talking. Where is Nathan Washington?"

"Man, I don't know really."

"You …" Paul began in an angry voice, until I held him back with a hand on his arm.

"If you don't give us full cooperation," I grabbed the letter from the folder in front of me, "I'm just going to rip up this letter right now. Send you right back out on the street. And then what will your boss think you've done to earn your freedom?"

"I never said I couldn't point you to the guy who does know."

"Okay, talk," Paul sneered at him, leaning back in his chair.

"Nate's been spending a lot of time at this one building. I dropped him off there once, and he said never to tell his brothers."

"Do you believe," Bones asked, "that this place is connected to the source of Nathan Washington's clandestine wealth?"

"Uh?"

"Is that where he got all the money?" I translated.

"I don't know where else he'd get it," Lewis nodded. "And when I drop Nate off, there's this guy waiting for him."

"A guy?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, a guy. Nate didn't think I knew him, but I did. See, he ran with a crew out of Boston, where I've done some jobs for my cousin. His name's Petey Pine, or that's what everyone calls him, anyways."

"And how is this Petey going to help us find Washington?" I gave Lewis a skeptical stare.

"'Cause I run into Petey the other day, at the racing track. I ask him how he's been and if he likes workin' for Washington."

"And?"

"He replies, he don't work for Washington, he works for some other guys, but he has been spending lots of time with Nate at some hide out, especially since Joey died."

"So you don't know where Washington's staying, but your friend does?"

"That's what he said," Lewis insisted, trying to raise his hands, but the one shackled to the floor caught just above table-level. "And I've got no reason to think he was lying."

"And just how," Paul asked, leaning forward, "do we find your friend, Petey?"

"At the race track. Guy's there three times a week."

"Booth," Sweets said in my ear. "Lewis is lying. He's giving all the classical movements of dissembling behavior."

Nodding, I leaned in and asked him, "Are you sure it's a race track we're going to find Petey at three times a week? Not some other place? 'Cause you know, if we don't find Nathan Washington, the terms of your deal with the US Attorney's office are void."

"Okay, fine! It's an AA meeting. But it's held near the race track…"

"AA?" Bones asked me.

"Alcoholics Anonymous," I told her, wondering how the hell she didn't know what AA was.

"Oh! Like your meeting for degenerate gamblers?"

Shooting her an unhappy look and trying to ignore Paul's chuckle, I replied, "Yeah. Just like that, Bones. And Mr. Lewis here isn't supposed to tell us who goes to his meetings and when."

"Exactly. Petey knows it was me who ratted him out, he'll have me kicked out of the group for good!"

"We'll keep the tip-off confidential," I assured him, getting up and leading the way from the room.

"So," Paul began when he closed the door behind him, "we find Petey, we find Nathan Washington."

"And that address he gave us for the building Washington's been spending most of his time in? It's right in the middle of downtown."

"There's a similar set up for the house in LA," Paul muttered. "The whole thing is under this big office building right in the middle of everything."

"What does this case have to do with LA?" Bones asked him as Sweets joined us.

Looking to me quickly, before answering, Paul replied, "I've been investigating a similar human trafficking ring out west. They kept the victims in a holding area underground that they called a house. I think the same thing is going on here."

With an accepting look on her face, her lips pushed out in thought, Bones nodded. "Shall we investigate the office building? Use one of our clever undercover schemes?" She smiled at me and I couldn't help but smile back, thinking of how much Bones enjoyed going undercover. Sometimes I think it's because she likes being someone else, if only for a little while, leaving Temperance Brennan and everyone's expectations of her behind.

"No!" Paul shook his head, looking at me. "It's too dangerous for you," pausing, he pursed his lips and looked over at Bones. Sweets noticed the pause and caught my eye with a questioning brow. "For you _both_, to go in there."

Paul was worried about me! Lewis breaking into my apartment to kill me must have shaken him up more than I'd realized. "Okay," I agreed, giving him a steady look and ignoring how Sweets was trying to get my attention. "Okay. We'll pass this info on to the guys up in OC, have them take the office building from here."

"But Booth," Bones started, and I saw Charlie pass behind her, coming to protect Lewis for me. I nodded to him in thanks as he passed and then turned back to my partner.

"No," I said, meeting her eyes. "These guys aren't your run of the mill murderers, Bones. They're hardened criminals, probably a lot of them, and it's best to let Agents who _know how_ handle these situations. Okay?"

"I suppose they are highly trained in the methods one uses to infiltrate such an operation without coming to harm. It would be foolish of me to insist otherwise."

"Thank you, Bones. Thanks." I sighed, standing in the hallway with Bones on one side of me and Paul on the other – my dream woman and the guy I was what? Dating? And then Sweets, who was standing opposite me and observing everything, every little nuance of behavior and emotion. It was too much scrutiny to bear for long. "How are things with the remains going?" I asked Bones, changing the subject to something we could all talk about as walked back to my office.

"I've got another appointment," Sweets interrupted, veering off toward the elevator bank, leaving me alone with the two of them. "Let me know if you need anything else."

On one hand, I was glad he wasn't watching me anymore. But on the other, his gaze had suppressed the urge to touch Paul, to reassure him that everything was going to be fine. To kiss the lips right off his face, because I'm sure he would let me. Unlike Bones, who wanted someone else.

* * *

_Please review if you get a chance._


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Thanks for all the reviews lately, guys! I love hearing from you. I'm trying to finish this one up soon, if I can find the time, so expect more updates than you've seen in the past couple months._

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Chapter 19

All day while working, my mind kept drifting back to what had happened between Paul and me the night before. It probably didn't help that I had him sticking close to me the whole day so we could protect each other – sort of a buddy system kind of deal.

We'd had sex. Well, a type of sex, anyways. Together. And I couldn't keep myself from wanting it, wanting him, again. Wanting to touch him in little ways throughout the day. Wanting to take him somewhere and kiss everything, every inch of his body. Wanting to press him against any available surface and devour him until I felt something like I had last night. Wanting to fall asleep with him in my arms. Wanting too much.

I tried to put him out of my mind. I tried to focus on the work, on finding the creeps that had been stealing people, mostly girls, and brainwashing them to fulfill the wishes of whoever could pay. The case was almost bizarre enough to distract me. Almost.

"So, Paul," I said later on in the day, when he and I were both working in my office, "my people are having a difficult time IDing the body you left at the safe house. Do you know who he is?"

"I don't know his name," Paul shrugged. He was working on the far side of my desk, facing me. "But I know he was a handler from the dollhouse. He and his active both came after me."

"Did you know the active?"

"You don't really ever _know _a doll, Seeley," he said, giving me a wry smile. "But I think her call sign was Kilo. She was from LA."

"So her handler was as well?"

"Yeah, I've seen him before. But he won't be in any of the databases, not his real info anyways. Rossum makes sure to scrub clean everything when they take someone on."

"So before you got reinstated at the Bureau?"

"Nothing. No records left. Rossum put enough back that when they got me rehired, no one I already knew there would start to ask questions."

I shook my head. "That's really fuckin' creepy. That they can just make people disappear like that?"

"Hey, I'm with ya, Booth," he sighed, paging through another report. "You trust these guys in Organized Crime?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Rosemont and Taggert are good guys, completely trustworthy. They'll get to the bottom of this. I've told them there are probably victims in there right now, so they seemed eager to find Petey and persuade him to get them an in at the house as soon as possible."

"Seeley?" he asked, setting his hand out toward me, palm up. He wore a concerned expression, looking down like he didn't want to say what was coming next.

"Yeah?" I responded, brushing my fingers across his, giving in to the temptation to touch him, since he'd offered first.

"Once your guys confirm that this office building is hiding a dollhouse, I'm going to bring the information back to Adelle."

"Your boss?" I asked sadly, knowing he would be gone soon, no matter how the case went.

"Yeah, my boss. It's the only way she'll let me work with Echo. It's the only way I can get Caroline and all the others out."

Sighing, I tightened my hand around his, saying, "I know. I know why you have to see this thing through. Why you'll have to leave DC." Why you'll have to leave me.

"There's still tonight," he insisted with a sexy smirk, making me smile in response and think that maybe giving in to what I wanted wouldn't be so bad. As long as Bones didn't need to know about it.

"Yeah, but where?" I asked him, crestfallen. "The Washington brothers and the Dollhouse people all know where my place is, and the safe house is no longer safe. We might just have to camp out here all night."

"What about a hotel? Have someone else rent the room for us? Sneak in the back way?"

"Are you trying to get me alone?" I smiled, letting my fingers inch up to the sensitive skin on his wrist.

Paul shivered, "Is that a bad thing?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but at that moment, there was a knock on the door, and I jumped back from Paul, looking up to see Bones standing there on the other side, luckily reading something on her phone. She's bad at inferring relationships from facial expressions, but I'm sure a second before my feelings about Paul had been written on my face so clearly even Bones would have noticed. Clearing my throat and trying to calm the startled beating of my heart, I called, "Come in."

"Hi, Booth," she said, finally looking up when she crossed the threshold. "Oh, and Agent Ballard. You're still here."

"I am," he nodded, shooting me a questioning glance. I shook my head at him slightly, telling him to ignore her clueless behavior.

"Do you have new information, Bones? Something that might help us find the murder weapon?"

"Oh, I was right earlier when I said it was an awl. But Hodgins and Clark have determined that it was a standard model, manufactured within the last five years, tens of thousands sold in the US alone."

"Hmm. Did we find something like that in the furniture shop?"

"No," she shook her head, sitting in the chair next to Paul's. "I came because Special Agent Rosemont called me here. He said to meet him in your office."

"Okaayy," I said slowly, not having heard of this meeting until just then. "Did he say when?"

Looking at her watch, she replied, "In about five minutes. What are you guys working on?"

"A backstory and a briefing for the undercover agents," I told her. "So they'll know what they're getting in to."

"Oh," she nodded. "That seems wise." The three of us sat in a sort of awkward silence until Bones said to Paul, "I'm quite relieved that you haven't been killed, Agent Ballard."

He chuckled, shooting me a glance as he said, "Thanks. I'm quite relieved, myself."

"I know that Booth holds your friendship in very high esteem," she blurted out, and I could feel myself blushing. "I hope you appreciate that friendship."

"I do, Dr. Brennan," Paul said, smiling at me and nudging his toes against mine under the desk. "Very much so."

"Good," she nodded, like she had just completed a task she'd been thinking about for some time. Sometimes she can be sweet in just the oddest ways, you know?

Then, Agent Rosemont knocked on the door and came in without waiting for a response. I'd known him ever since working in OC for those two years, and he was a really good guy. He was on the short and pudgy side, but his nondescript stature and amazing acting ability made him one of the best undercover field Agents we had here in DC.

"We found Petey Pine," he said, "just where your perp said he would be."

"Great," I replied. "Don, have you met my partner, Dr. Brennan? Bones, this is Supervisory Special Agent Don Rosemont."

"Oh," he said, sticking out his hand so she could shake it. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard many good things from Booth, here."

"Thank you," she nodded, giving me a smile that made me wish Paul wasn't in the room. God damn it. Five minutes ago, I'd known exactly what I wanted. But when she smiled at me like that, it was easy to fall back into confusion.

"Taggert and I are going in tonight," Rosemont continued. "Apparently all we need is to show enough money and be willing to pay cash for their services."

"No background checks?" Paul asked, surprised.

"No," the OC Agent shook his head. "Just have to get Petey to vouch for us and then bring enough cash." He shuffled through some papers and then looked up. "I'm set to do this for you, Booth, but I really have to know what the hell I'm getting into."

"Uh, Paul," I asked, "do you want to explain?"

"Sure," he nodded, standing up and turning to face Rosemont, sitting back on the edge of my desk. "We believe this operation is in possession of people who have been kidnapped primarily from Eastern Europe, drugged, and rented out to whoever can pay."

"Any idea what kind of drug?"

"We're not sure exactly," he said, giving the story he and I had come up with together. "But I've seen its effects out in LA. It makes the people very docile and suggestible. There are even a few reports that it can radically change their personality when they come out of it."

"Okay," Rosemont nodded. "That's good to know."

"They might try to sell you some crap about directed programming of the victims, but that's just a con job," Paul insisted. "But, I would suggest going along with the story while you're in there." Rosemont nodded again and wrote that down.

"So, what's the mission today?" I asked him. "Go in and then what?"

"We're just going to take a meeting, and then take a look around. Make sure the operation is what you think it is."

"You've got your own handlers on this, don't you?"

"Why, Agent Ballard?" Don frowned at him. "You look like you've got an idea."

"I was just wondered if we could be there, waiting outside. Give you back up if something goes wrong."

"We've got our own back up team," Rosemont pointed out, looking to me for a suggestion. I told him with a gesture that it was up to him, whatever he wanted to do.

"I'm just," Paul confessed, "anxious to get this case solved and get back to my partner."

"Where is Agent Ellis?" Bones asked him. "Last we heard she'd been injured and was missing."

"She's been shot and I've been able to gather that she's still alive and recovering, but my bosses won't tell me where."

"Why not?" she asked, shooting me a questioning glance.

"Since the Washington brothers are after me," he lied easily, "they didn't want to give me information that might be dangerous if I'd been captured. Because as pissed as the Washington brothers are at me, and at Booth, they absolutely _hate_ Ellis for getting in to their operation undercover." He sighed, and I wondered: if he was this good at coming up with a story on the fly, should I really have given him so much trust, so quickly? I had been having troubles lately, telling whether or not someone was lying. But no, if something was off last night, I would have noticed. I would have felt it. Ballard continued, "I just wish I knew how her cover got busted in the first place."

Rosemont nodded. "Sure. I won't stop you from staking out the building. But don't enter the field and don't engage any enemies unless you get the call that we need extra back up, okay?"

"You have my word," Paul nodded, solemnly.

"Booth?" Rosemont gave me a hard eye and I nodded.

"Observation only. I got it."

"Alright," the agent decided. "We're going in at ten tonight. Coordinate with Gundam for frequencies and deployment positions."

"Good luck, Rosemont," I told him as he opened the door, nodded in thanks, and left.

"So," Bones stood up, catching my eye. "What time will we go?"

"You want to come with us?" Paul asked her, and I cringed at the incredulous tone in his voice.

"Of course," Bones replied, confused. "Booth and I always work together. We've been on plenty of stake outs."

"We've been on two, Bones," I said, turning her attention to me so I could calm her down. Confusion just makes her angry and stubborn more often than not.

"Yes," she nodded. "And I'm a quick learner. I know the procedure."

"And that's why you're coming with," I nodded.

"May I –"

"No," I laughed. "No gun. We're just going to be watching and waiting. If I think you need a gun, I will give you one."

"But what if –"

"If I'm injured, Paul will give you a weapon. Right?" I turned to him and he just rose one eyebrow and nodded, looking almost amused at the way I knew what Bones was going to ask. And maybe a little threatened.

"Thank you, Agent Ballard," Bones smiled at him before turning back to me. "So, what time? I'd like to get a little more work done at the lab before we go.

"And eat, Bones. Don't forget to eat."

"I won't," she promised.

"We'll meet back here at eight, unless I call you."

"See you then, Booth. Agent Ballard." She nodded to both of us and left.

"She's pushy," Paul said, watching through the windows of my office as she walked away. "I like her."

"But?" I asked, noticing a tone in his voice.

"But," he said, turning around with a little smirk on his face and sitting down in his chair, "I was hoping we'd go on the stake out, just the two of us."

"Just the two of us, huh?" I asked, finding his foot with my toe again.

"Hey, a guy can dream."

"Is this stupid?" I asked him, sighing. "I mean, you're just going to leave soon."

"And you're just in love with your partner," he pointed out.

"Yeah," I agreed, sheepishly. "But I like you a lot."

"Then it's not stupid," he decided, looking up at me through his brows. "It's two people making the best of things. Even if it's just for a short time."

"God, I want to kiss you," I confessed, almost before I knew what I was saying.

Ballard laughed and turned back to his work, running his foot into mine again. "Likewise."

* * *

Sitting on a stake out with Paul and Bones both in the car could only be considered awkward, for me and Paul, anyways. Bones had no clue, at least not as far as I could tell. And I can read her pretty well after all these years.

The three of us sat in a car Rosemont had insisted we use. It was a beat-up old boat of a sedan, but I had to admit, it definitely looked more like a car someone would leave parked overnight in downtown than my truck did. Paul and I were scooted down in the front seats, and Bones was in the back seat, behind me.

"But I don't understand," she said softly, leaning forward to put her mouth closer to my ear. "Why do I have to sit in the back seat?"

"Because, Bones," I replied, watching the corner of Paul's mouth twitch as he tried not to smile, "Agent Ballard has more experience observing the area while on stake out. If he has the better view, he might be able to catch something you wouldn't."

"I'm very observant," she insisted.

"I know you are, Bones. But you're observant about objects and science and bone structure. Paul's going to be observing body language and emotional states of whoever crosses our path. He's also going to identify whoever attacked the safe house the other day."

"Oh," she said, the leather upholstery creaking as she sat back in her seat. "Why didn't you just say that to begin with, Booth?"

"I don't know," I sighed, trying to ignore Paul's amused snort. He was taking this whole situation pretty well, I thought, considering he'd wanted some time alone with me. I blushed then, remembering the night before, and was glad the car was so dark.

"What would you like to talk about?" Bones asked.

"What do you mean?" I responded, trying to keep my eyes out the windows and not in the rear view mirror to meet her eyes.

"You've said that on a stake out, the parties involved generally make conversation. To pass the time and keep from losing vigilance."

"You told her that?" Paul asked me with a smirk.

"Not in those exact words," I insisted. "She likes to paraphrase up rather than down like normal people." We shared a smile before I said, "I don't know, Bones. What would you like to talk about?"

"I've read some fascinating new papers on radial fractures and identifying the forces that have caused them."

"No science talk," I told her, strongly. I really didn't need another reason for Ballard to leave sooner rather than later.

"Do you follow sports, Dr. Brennan?" Paul asked absently, watching a man walk toward the office building, and then past it on the sidewalk.

"No," she replied. "I find most sports archaic surrogates for war and ritual rites of passage."

"Okay," he sighed. "What else could we talk about?"

Bones thought for a moment before saying, "Booth is seeing someone, and he won't tell me who."

"Really?" Paul looked at me with a grin, so I just groaned and turned to face out the window again. Of course, they had to team up on me. I should have seen it coming. "Why won't he tell you?"

"I don't know. Booth, why won't you tell me? Are you afraid I wouldn't approve?"

I thought, _yes_, but I answered, "No. Nothing like that. It's just all very new."

"Am I acquainted with her?"

"What is this, twenty-questions, Bones? Yes, okay? Yes, you have met the person. But don't worry, it's none of your friends or colleagues."

"Did he tell _you_ who it is?" she asked Ballard.

"No," he shook his head, giving me a sidelong glance and smiling at how uncomfortable I was. "I have no idea."

"See, Bones? Your status as my partner and best friend is safe. I didn't tell Paul, either." Though, I didn't have to, since he was there from the beginning. "What about you, Ballard? " I asked, turning it around on him. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Yeah," he said, meeting my eyes briefly. "Also quite recently."

"Have you been able to speak to this romantic partner since you went into hiding, Agent Ballard? I imagine she would be very worried for you."

"Yeah. It's been tough, but I got a message through. She knows I'm okay." I snorted at being called 'she', but Paul was going with the deception willingly enough. I was thankful, though I would rather not have to lie to Bones. But I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to call this thing between Paul and me more than it was. I wasn't ready to risk Bones not being able to handle it and shutting down on me forever. At least if she didn't know I was seeing Paul, my romantic interest in anyone other than her would remain abstract, something easily forgotten once she was ready to be with me.

Not that _I_ would ever forget Paul, but we had an expiration date. I knew that, and I knew it didn't have to hurt too much when I gave him up. Unless I let it. Besides, I'm an all-time champ at getting over failed relationships. What was one more?

"What is she like?" Bones asked Paul, and I actually turned to face him, though I should have been watching the building, because I was curious what he would say.

"Kind," he replied, looking out his window, away from me and Bones. "Brave, fun, gorgeous." I saw the corner of his bright smile as he said, "Excellent chef."

"Gorgeous?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded, letting his hand fall onto the seat between us, palm up, though he didn't look at me.

Smiling, I glanced back to make sure Bones was looking out her window before slipping my hand into Paul's and turning my gaze back out the window. Maybe this was going to hurt in the end. And maybe I wanted to let it hurt, if it meant letting my heart pound this way at a simple compliment. If it meant being with someone who noticed me back.

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_Please review if you get a chance._


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Whew, it's been a busy week!_

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Chapter 20

After Agents Taggert and Rosemont got in and out of the dollhouse intact, without their cover blown, Rosemont debriefed us at a conference room in the Hoover Building. We didn't even get started until two in the morning, and I was exhausted and getting sick of being stuck between Bones and Paul, now standing at the side of the room with one on either side of me. The three of us made it through the stake out without mishap, but Bones kept shooting me looks that were either hurt or curious. Or maybe a combination of the two. For someone who generally doesn't understand her own emotions, she certainly wears them all on her sleeve. Of course, I've learned what they all look like, after countless hours and days and weeks watching her, spending time with her, figuring her out.

On my other side, Paul had returned to his Agent Ballard expression, the one that told me hardly anything about what he was thinking. Was he getting as attached to me as I was to him? Was he sad about the day when it would end? Did he even care, now that Rosemont and Taggert had confirmed that the office building held a dollhouse in the basement, that our time was almost up? Did he, like me, keep telling himself that as soon as the case was over, we were too? Did he think, given time we didn't have, he could love me?

"You guys were right," Rosemont began, nodding to me and Ballard, "they're claiming to be able to change their victims' personalities to fit whatever the customer wants. But all we saw were a bunch of drugged out, child-like zombies. They're working on an 'imprint' they called it, for my perfect woman. I'm supposed to meet her here," he passed around a card with an address and a time, "in one week. I want to hit the building before then."

"Did you happen to get any information about Katrina Volshka's death?" I asked him, knowing it would be a long shot.

"I didn't, but the man I met with, David Brewer, did mention that certain 'fantasies' cost more because they're dangerous for the girl."

"They've taken the entire business model from the house in LA," Ballard murmured, so only I could hear him.

"So what are you saying?" I asked. "A client killed the girl?"

Bones cleared her throat next to me and said, "The injuries to the bones are consistent with an extensive amount of torture over a very brief period of time. The final stab wounds to her torso, which were made with the same instrument of torture, are consistent with cause of death."

"So she was tortured shortly before she died?" I asked her, waiting for her nod. "Was there evidence of any other … molestation?"

"No," she shook her head. "There was too much tissue damage to be certain."

"Someone could have bought her," Paul muttered, shaking his head and looking away from the people in the room, "just to be able to kill someone and get away with it."

"But we won't let that happen," Bones assured him, putting her hand on my arm in a way that made Paul's eyes flick to her hand and then away again. "Booth and I won't let this person get away with it."

"Sure," Paul agreed, standing just an inch closer to me, like he wanted to stake a claim, but couldn't. And I wanted to let him, but as much as I liked Paul, there was still the fear that if Bones found out about us, she'd never get over it. And then I'd lose a partner and when Paul went back to LA, I'd lose a lover too. Without a careful balancing act between the two of them, I was fucked.

"Alright," Rosemont nodded, bringing the room's attention back to the front, "so when we go in, we'll be looking for client records as well as captives. See if we can't track down the bastard that killed this poor girl. The problem is, people, that this business is run by just a few guys, including Nathan Washington and David Brewer, which means it's a crackerjack operation – all Taggert and I saw were paper records and accountants' books with extra pages stuck in, very unprofessional and difficult to search through. And then, all the captives are drugged. They act like they want to be there, so it will be difficult getting them out so we can help them.

"Now," Rosemont continued, "Pine gave us Washington's hideout, which I know was of particular interest to Agent Ballard's investigation based out of LA. And you had a partner, right, Agent?"

"Yes, sir," Paul said, and I think I was the only one to notice how gruff his voice had become at the mention of Agent Ellis.

"She's no longer with us?" Rosemont asked tactfully.

"Not at the moment, no." This time, the emotion in his voice was apparent to everyone, except maybe Bones.

Rosemont nodded sympathetically and said, "Our top priority is rescuing those civilians in the downtown building. We can't hit the Washington hideout until afterwards, or we might lose the element of surprise before we hit this _facility_." The agent said this last word with a frown of disgust. "However, our informant has told us a few times a week when more of the suspects will be in the building, so with some careful planning, we can sweep everything up at once."

He continued his speech, but Paul pulled me aside, speaking into my ear and making goose bumps spring up all over my skin at the nearness of him. "I've got to take this information and go. _Now_. If they found out I sat on this? I'm dead."

Nodding, I led him into the hallway and around the corner, where the others couldn't see us through the glass walls of the conference room. "I didn't think you'd leave this soon," I told Paul, grabbing his hand in mine.

"I didn't think I'd have to. But if this works, if bringing Adele this information earns back her trust, I should have more freedom. I should be able to move around the city to continue my investigation. And as long as I'm still in town, I'll come see you."

"Alright," I nodded, pulling him closer against me. "Just let me know if you've gone back to LA, so I don't have to keep wondering."

"Sure," he replied, leaning in to kiss me one last time. I kissed him back, putting some incentive in the way I pressed my lips to his and letting my tongue caress his. Maybe, if I kissed him well enough, he'd come back. And this time he'd stay for more than a day at a time.

When we pulled apart, he whispered, much to my satisfaction, "Wow. That just doesn't get old." I smiled and laughed a little, letting go because I knew I had to. "No matter what, I'll talk to you again, Seeley," he promised as he walked away.

I waved, but all I could say was, "Good luck." Anything else would have been too much, and I still had work to do tonight. I still had Bones, and I still had this fucking case. This God damn case that had flipped my life upside down, kept me from seeing my son for over almost two weeks, and was breaking my heart every time I stopped long enough to think about Paul Ballard.

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The next night, the phone in my hotel room rang just as I got in, so I quickly locked the door behind me and rushed to pick it up. I wondered if it was Bones, calling me to give me the fifth update of the day. It seemed like every time I turned around the whole day, she found me or called me, telling me a little fact about Katrina Volsha's bones that would never have made a difference to the investigation. And she knew that, she knew the facts were inconsequential. But it was her, it was Bones, and I just didn't have the heart to tell her to knock it off. "Hello?"

"Agent Booth, this is the Bureau switchboard service. We have a call for you from an Agent Paul Ballard. Would you like me to put him through?"

"Yes, please. Go ahead," I replied, absolutely hating the fact that I'd had to turn off my phone. I still had it on me, in case of emergency, but otherwise, I was off the grid. Anyone who wanted to talk to me had to go through the FBI operator. Including Bones, a fact she moaned about when I'd told her as I was leaving the Jeffersonian for the day.

"Hello? Seeley?"

"Paul," I answered, sitting down on the bed next to the phone, "what's going on?"

"I'm back in with the dollhouse," he said. "The location of this other house the Washingtons were supplying did the trick."

"Good," I murmured, stopping myself from saying anything else. What if this call was it? What if Paul was back where he belonged, back at Echo's side, and there was no more room left for me? I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was, in a morose sort of way.

Paul sighed and said, "Look, there's more I'd like to tell you, but I shouldn't speak over the phone. Can we meet somewhere?"

"Yeah, sure," I agreed, wondering if maybe I'd been wrong about this call. But maybe Paul just wanted to say goodbye in person, rather than over the phone. "Same place as last time?"

"Great," he agreed. "I'll be there in about half an hour."

Checking my watch, I said, "See you then," and hung up.

Upset I didn't have time for a shower, I changed my clothes, anyways, picking through what I'd been able to bring to the hotel and finding something suitably casual. I wondered if I was dressing for a date, or a work meeting, or for being dumped. Nothing in my suitcase fit all three.

Thirty five minutes later, I pulled my untraceable rental car into the parking lot of that burger restaurant in Baltimore. Getting out, I looked around first before going in, finding Paul at one of the booths. He sat staring out the window, clutching a glass of soda in one hand.

"Hey," I said, slipping into the seat across from him.

"Hey, Booth," he smiled. "I hope you don't mind staying here for a bit while I eat. I haven't had a decent meal in days."

"Sure, no problem," I nodded. "I haven't eaten yet either." Paul looked down, playing with a little puddle of water on the table top. He sighed, and though I didn't want to, I pulled the trigger and asked, "What's wrong?"

Before he could answer, the waitress came to take our order. "Evenin' sweetheart," she greeted me and I almost cursed at her for interrupting, but she _was _just doing her job. "Can I get ya somethin' to drink?"

We ordered food and drinks and when the waitress left, I turned back to Paul and demanded, "So? Spill."

Shaking his head, Paul muttered, "I feel like a jerk calling you here when I'm just going to have to report back in the morning."

"So are you here," I asked him, really looking at him as he moved on to fidgeting with sugar packets, "because you wanted to keep your word that you'd see me again? Or are you here because you want to be here with me?"

"I _want_ to be here," he insisted, grabbing my hand, and I noticed that his hand was ice-cold from clutching the drink. "I just don't know if I should. I hate that I keep disappearing on you."

I laughed a little. "It's not too fun from this side, either."

"I don't know how to stay," he confessed. "I can't give up on this, not now. Not until it's finished. The Dollhouse is too scary and too powerful to just let it be, Seel. I have to follow through with this. The thing is," he sighed again, finally looking up at me, "I don't know how to stay away from you, either."

A little glimmer of affection and hope sparked in my chest, until it was quashed by reality. "You're going to have to go where the mission takes you," I told him, letting him go and sitting back in the booth. "I can't be the reason you give up, Paul."

"You wouldn't ask me to stay? Even if I could get out of this now?"

"No," I shook my head. "If something happened to Echo or anyone else because you didn't go back, I'm fairly certain you'd end up resenting me. I've been in enough relationships to know that, at least."

"Yeah," he nodded regretfully, eyes darting away from mine again. "Damn it, you're right."

"There's still tonight," I told him, settling for second best. Sometimes it's good enough, and everything else works out in the end. "I'm set up somewhere safe, if you'd like to stay until morning."

Smiling slowly, Paul looked up at me. "Are you sure?"

I stopped to think. Was I sure? I definitely wanted him. My body heated up just at the thought of running my hands over his skin and kissing him like our lives depended on it. It had been so long since I'd been with someone, I couldn't say no. I couldn't turn away a chance at this small piece of happiness, even if it was bittersweet. "I'm sure," I nodded, taking his hand in mine again. We shared a look of understanding for a moment before I asked, "So, what happened today?"

"I told them where to go, and they're going to hit this house soon. In the next few days."

"What is that going to mean for our investigation? I mean, Bones and mine? If there's evidence, records or something, that say who killed the girl, I need those, Paul. I need him brought to justice, not whisked away to disappear somewhere."

Paul nodded and said, "You should get Rosemont to hurry up his plans then. We're just waiting on a few more imprints to be polished up, and then our team of actives is going in. I'll be with them, and I'll see what I can do, but if you really want those records…"

"I've got to get to them _first_," I nodded, understanding the situation. After a few silent moments, the food came and we started eating.

"I saw Echo," Paul blurted out after a minute, taking some time to finish chewing his bite before continuing. "She's pretty upset I haven't been around lately." He sounded guilty, almost, like she didn't know he was here with me. I doubted he'd told her about me, as hung up on her as he was. "It probably doesn't help that I shot her."

"Yeah," I nodded with sympathy, disguising my jealousy at his concern over her. Paul loved Echo, he didn't love me. But he sat across the table from me, holding my hand until the food came, planning on going back to my hotel room after dinner. Eventually, I had to ask, "Was she upset you came here tonight?"

"I don't know," he shook his head, trying to pull away and giving up when I tightened my grip and he realized I wouldn't let him go. "She was sleeping when I left. She needs a lot of rest, with the pain meds they've got her on."

So I was right; Echo didn't know about me. Bones didn't know about Paul. And while he and I were together, we could pretend that it didn't matter, that it was just the two of us. And somehow, after a few moments of eating and talking about nothing in particular, it felt almost normal.

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_Reviews appreciated._


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: Yeah, so this is pretty much just a smut chapter, because I really couldn't help myself. Oh, and this fic is rated M for some very good reasons..._

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Chapter 21

I showed Paul into my hotel room, nervous with anticipation. I'd gotten him back, for one night at least, and there were so many things that could go wrong. Not to mention the fact that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. The other night had been just right, exactly what I needed. But what about tonight? Would Paul expect more of me? Was I ready to give more?

But when I saw Paul standing there, fiddling with the telephone cord next to the desk and lost in thought, I decided I didn't care. He needed someone and I needed someone, and tonight was just tonight. Stalking over, I approached him, slipping one arm around his waist and turning him to face me. Our eyes met for a brief moment before our lips did, brushing so gently it made my heart hurt and my spine tingle, all the way to my fingertips. The second kiss went straight to my groin.

"Mmm. Why do I want you so much?" I asked him, struggling out of my jacket before helping Paul out of his.

"I don't know," he replied, sitting down on the bed and kicking his shoes off. "Can we just be glad that you do?"

"Yeah, we really can," I smirked, standing over him while he sat. Unable to keep myself from touching him, I let one hand slip from his shoulder to the back of his neck, reaching down and pulling Paul into another kiss. Tilting back just enough, I whispered against his mouth, "In any case, I'm glad you're here."

Paul caught my lips again, grabbing the front of my shirt collar and pulling me down onto him as he fell back on the mattress. Surprised, I caught my weight on my arms, hands flat on either side of his shoulders, and lowered those last few inches slowly. Sinking into him as we kissed, I felt every delicious inch of Paul's body pressed against mine, making my desire for him flare up, making my hands want to grab onto him anywhere and everywhere.

My legs still angling off the bed, I urged the man below me to scoot up toward the pillows. And while he did, he practically dragged me along with him, so we never lost contact. Our kisses were intense, sometimes punishing, but everything else was slower, more hesitant. Paul's hands whispered over my neck, arms and back, before he inched my t-shirt up from the hem painfully slowly.

Eventually I'd had it, especially since I couldn't feel enough of him through either the shirt the denim of my jeans. Kneeling back, I ripped my shirt off and tried to lie down next to Paul, but he pulled me back on top of him, a pained expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked him in a whisper, holding my shoulders above him with my forearms flat on the mattress on either side of him.

"I..." Paul began, his eyes sliding away from mine. "I... It was bad there, Seeley. In the dollhouse. The one here in DC… It's run differently from LA."

"How different?"

"Different enough that I want you to be the only thing I see, the only thing I can think about," he answered, sounding oddly vulnerable. It reminded me of the first night we'd kissed, after he'd accidentally shot Ellis. I'd wanted to fix him, then, to kiss him so he'd stop crying. And now he needed me to do it again, to kiss him and let my weight sink into him and make him forget about whatever he'd seen. Frightened that I wouldn't be good enough, that I couldn't make him forget, I swallowed before nodding. Might as well take the chance, right? Even if all I came up with was leaning back down and pressing my lips to his.

Eventually Paul let me separate from him long enough to get his shirt off too, so when we embraced, it was with the exquisite feel of his hot skin pressed against mine. The next time he let me pull back, I shimmied out of my jeans before grabbing at the waist of his. Watching him squirm, I ran the flat heel of my palm up his prick, gratified by his gasp, before unbuttoning and unzipping the fly. Paul helped me push them down and off before putting his body under me again.

Through the fabric of our underwear, my cock ground against Paul's and I groaned in pleasure, aching fire coursing through me as I rocked my hips against him. We kissed again and again before he grunted and pushed my boxers down past my ass, leaving me to finish the job as he got rid of his own. When we pressed together again, I shivered, especially when Paul let my legs fall between his, brought his knees up and thrust against me, his hot skin everywhere. "Oh, fuck," I whispered as I kissed down Paul's jaw, grabbing onto his shoulders tighter.

Something just clicked and soon enough, I was rutting against him, face buried in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin with every pant, as he matched my rhythm with his own. "Oh, keep going, Seeley," he murmured in my ear, kissing at my neck, his hands on my hips, fingers digging into the skin.

My pleasure grew and grew even more when sweat slicked up the skin between us. "So damn good," I told him, kissing Paul again, invading his mouth with my tongue. And instead of just meeting my tongue with his, Paul sucked on it in time with our thrusts against each other, setting my blood on fire.

And then, Paul groaned, breath escaping in spurts as he released my tongue pulled me down against him one last time and came, throwing his head back in rapture. "Agh!" he groaned, the noise deep in his throat, making me shudder at the sound.

I wanted to keep going, to take what I needed from Paul, to catch up with him, but noticing how he jumped at my touch, over sensitized, I didn't. I peeled myself away, giving him some air and rolling on my back beside him. Finally, after a minute or two of deep breathing, he turned toward me, putting a hand to my face and coaxing me to turn so he could kiss me again. Our lips met and I whined, hips wanting to thrust up into anything but the air above them, just about ready to take matters into my own hand. Instead of helping me right away, Paul trailed his clever fingers down the side of my face to my neck, and then my chest, and then my belly.

"You're killin' me here," I groaned, getting more frustrated by the second. Eventually, those fingers found my dick, whispering over me much too carefully. "Fuck, Paul," I growled. "More!"

"Can I ..." he began, before clearing his throat and continuing, "Can I try something?"

"What?" I asked, afraid of what his answer might be. How far would he want to take things? Was I even ready for that?

In response, Paul kissed down my neck, and all the way down my torso. He'd just gotten past my nipple when I realized where he was going. "Oh!" I cried through my furious panting. "Oh, okay," I agreed. Hell, at this point I might have agreed to anything, just to keep him touching me.

"Yeah?" he smirked, reaching my hip with his kisses.

"Sure. It's just…" I gasped when Paul licked the head of my cock experimentally. "Oh, fuck! I'm just … really close."

Paul murmured, "Okay," and licked me again, further around this time, making me hiss and grab onto the pillow behind my head.

When Paul took the head of my cock in his mouth gently, I told him, "Shit, _yes_!" A sharp aching thrill of expectant euphoria wracked my body at the sight and sound and _feel_ of him exploring me with his hands and lips and tongue. "More!" I begged, trying to keep my hips still so I wouldn't gag him and scare him off. With a murmur, he closed his mouth tighter around me and sucked, just a little. "Oh, God! Paul, baby, that's so good," I rambled, realizing that the way he'd sucked on my tongue was nothing compared to this. "Just right. Just… Oh, for the… Fuck! More, like that!" I yelled when he pumped his hand on the base of my dick and bobbed his head along with it.

Everything in my body tightened with anticipation and building pleasure as he kept up the motion. "Christ! I… I'm gonna…" I laughed a little, almost with relief, until Paul sucked just a bit harder. "Agh! I'm coming! I'm…" I tried to pull away from him, to come someplace other than down his throat, but he wouldn't let me. My vision blacked out, maybe because of the force of the orgasm, or maybe just because I screwed my eyes shut. In either case, all my muscles clenched and I poured myself into him, trying not to scream, trying not to grab his head and fuck his throat until I was done.

If it was physically possible, the sound of Paul swallowing would have made me come again. "Uggh," I moaned as he let me go and sat up on his hip and one arm, looking up at me, licking his lips. "Thanks," I laughed, brushing his supporting arm with languid fingers.

"God damn, that was hot, Seeley," he growled, scooting up so he could lie next to my ribs, in my arm. When he kissed my neck, I shivered uncontrollably throughout my entire body, groaning again.

"Yeah?" I asked him, hugging him closer while still trying to catch my breath.

"Mmm," he murmured against my neck, before moving his lips around to my chest. "Very much so. You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

"With me, or with anyone?" I asked, curious about him. I mean, I'd only started thinking about doing sexual things with a guy since meeting Paul – since the brain surgery. Was lusting after other men normal for Paul?

"With you," he whispered.

"So," I asked in a returning whisper, playing along, "how long_ have_ you wanted to do that?"

"Since I met you," he confessed, kissing my mouth again, clutching onto my arm with one strong hand, pressing his hard-on against my hip.

"Fuck, Paul," I chuckled, pushing at his shoulder with one hand. "I'm not twenty years old anymore. You've got to give me a couple a minutes here to recover."

"Right," he smiled, backing off a little. "Sorry, Seel."

"Since you met me, huh?" I asked, hugging Paul again to keep him close. "So I wasn't imagining something between us before the kiss?"

"Damn," he chuckled. "I was trying not to let it show."

"I suppose it did show," I told him, thinking about that night we got drunk together, and those little smiles he kept giving me. "Though I don't think I consciously noticed. But I did notice _you_, as a whole, which was weird."

"Weird? You've never noticed another guy before?"

"No," I shook my head, wondering again if the brain surgery had knocked something loose. "You?"

"Well, yeah," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Since when?" I asked, getting curious again. "I mean, you had a girlfriend last, right?"

"Yeah, Mellie." Shrugging, he answered, "I guess since always. It doesn't happen a lot. Usually it's women, but every once in a while, I'll see a guy and it's just like…_Oh_." He put a sensual emphasis on that last word, like it actually meant 'Oh, _there's_ a guy I wouldn't mind _fucking'_, and I shivered a little at the thought. Continuing, he asked, "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," I smiled, remembering the way Paul had stretched on my couch in that tight t-shirt of his and the way his muscles shifting under the fabric had made me want to touch him. "But you never…?"

"Acted on it? Not really. College was crazy, though." Paul paused, but I just stayed silent, running my hand up and down his back until he started talking again. "I had this friend who used to kiss me in public places to freak everyone out. It worked really well when there was a line to get up to the bartender or something. He thought it was hilarious, and I played along because it meant I got to kiss him."

"He was one of the guys you noticed?"

"Yeah," Paul chuckled a little. "Last I heard he came out a few years ago."

"So he wasn't just doing it for a laugh?"

"No," Paul said, laughing with me a little. "I guess not." Turning in my arms to lean on his elbows, belly down, Paul looked at me and asked, "You've done a bit of a one-eighty being here with me, haven't you?"

"Maybe that's a good thing," I insisted, still feeling all warm and relaxed.

"It just happened really quickly. Half of me is afraid that _you're_ just doing this for a laugh."

"No! Of course not, baby," I assured him, pulling him closer, almost on top of me. "I'm growing very … fond of you, I guess." And then I kissed him again, trying to show him how much he meant to me, how much I wanted him and admired him and cared for him.

Smiling that little smile, he replied, "I'm fond of you too, Seeley Booth."

After a few moments of silence, of just being together, I said, "Sweets, my shrink … at the beginning of this case, told me to try to make friends with you and Ellis."

"Why?" Paul asked with a teasing laugh.

"Because I've been so hung up on Bones lately," I muttered, wondering why it felt so right baring my soul to this man, "and she has a boyfriend."

"So I'm what? Homework?"

"No," I shook my head before leaning and kissing him lightly. "You're what I needed. Someone besides Bones who makes me happy."

Smiling shyly, Paul nodded before a darker look passed over his face. "And you're someone besides a fucking doll – someone _real_ – who makes me happy."

"I don't think this is exactly what Sweets had in mind when he said I needed more friends, though," I laughed with him, hugging Paul tightly, kissing whatever skin was in front of my lips.

As I loosened my grip, Paul's eyes caught mine again. "When I first met you, I didn't think we'd ever be here either, despite my fantasies, because you were so obviously straight."

"_Obviously_," I replied, warming up again by running my fingertips over the skin on Paul's back.

Almost tenderly, he pressed his lips to mine again, one hand on my face. "But then _you_ kissed _me_ that one night and it made me want to do all sorts of other things to you."

"Like what?" I asked, brushing my cheek into his palm.

"Like we have been doing," he shrugged, "but…"

"What?"

Leaning down towards my ear, Paul scraped the lobe between his teeth before whispering, "It made me dream about being able to fuck you."

Shivering at the things his low voice and his teeth on my ear did to my body, I confessed, "Before that morning, when we woke up together? I'd been dreaming about fucking you, too." Laughing a little, I told him, "Half of me thought I was going crazy."

"Do you still think you're crazy?"

"No," I assured him, turning to draw one of his legs between mine with a pull of my ankle. "There can't be anything crazy about _this_." To show him I meant it, I kissed him again and let him feel how hard I got during our conversation by pressing my cock against his thigh.

"Seel," he whispered, panting and grabbing my ass to hold me still as he thrust against me. "Oh, god. I need you."

Feeling a lot more relaxed and a lot less nervous than before, playfully I asked him, "How do you need me?"

"Shit," he growled against my neck with frustration, sighing almost. "Don't ask that unless you mean it."

"Sorry," I groaned as his hand found me again, stroking slowly, so I could hardly think. "I don't know if I meant it or not."

Drawing back so he could look at me, Paul stopped touching my prick and asked, "You'd actually consider it? Letting me fuck you?"

"I'd give it a shot, anyways," I told him, the words just sort of spilling out. "As long as I get a turn next time."

"Tomorrow night?" Paul asked me.

"If it's in the cards," I nodded, thinking about what it would be like to really fuck Paul, and almost groaning at the thought. "But I'd feel better about it," I mentioned, suddenly realizing that this was an actual possibility, "if we had protection."

Paul laughed and kissed me quickly before getting out of bed and rooting around in the small overnight bag he'd brought. "Ah, ha!" he cried, pulling out a box of condoms and a tube of some sort of jelly.

"Counting your chickens, don't you think?" I asked him with a smirk. "I might just as easily have said no." I was still thinking about saying no, but the biggest, loudest part of my brain told everything else to just shut up and go with it.

"Better safe than sorry," he shrugged, joining me in the bed again. "Though I had thought I might ask you to use them on me."

"Really?" I asked him, wondering if he would ask me because he really wanted it, or for my sake, as a selfless sort of gift.

Nodding, Paul put the items down on the nightstand and joined me on the bed. "But since you offered, I'm jumping at the chance."

"The chance to jump me?" I chuckled, warming up to the idea more and more. To move with Paul, connected to each other, utterly together? That was a chance I would jump at, given the opportunity.

"Right," he smiled, running a flat hand up and down my flank as we lay on our sides, facing each other.

"How do we do this?" I asked Paul, leaning forward so I was pressed against him, marveling again at the warmth of his skin.

In response, he kissed me deeply, and with buckets of feeling. Lips and tongues wrestled, hands grabbed again, all over, and Paul lay down on his back, pulling me on top of him again. "Straddle my hips," he ordered in a whisper, and I found myself complying without thought. "You're so fucking hot, Seel," he murmured, drawing me down into another series of scorching kisses. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"You noticed me," I told him, the first thought popping from my mouth.

"How could anyone not notice you, Booth? You're one of the sexiest men I've ever met. I feel so god damn lucky to be here."

"Alright…" I replied, feeling humbled somehow as I began kissing and sucking at his neck to draw out those murmuring noises he would make. Trying not to think too hard about what was about to happen, I dug my hands into Paul's hair and kissed his mouth again. "Can't fucking get enough of you," I confessed, tilting his head back so I could attack the other side of his neck.

During this time, Paul's hands began kneading into the flesh of my ass before brushing the crease between my butt cheeks and my upper legs. The brushing tickled, but in a good way that made me rock my hips against his belly and push my ass back into his hands. Kissing me again, Paul fumbled toward the nightstand and grabbed the tube.

"Let's start out easy," he whispered in my ear, putting some of the jelly in his hand and reaching down between us, grabbing my cock.

"Christ, that's cold!" I cried out, before groaning and leaning my forehead against Paul's shoulder as he stroked me.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled into my ear.

"No, it's good now," I assured him, the tight wet pleasure of his hand slicing keenly right through me. "Fuck, it's good, baby."

"How good, Booth?" he asked, his voice caressing my name, making it sound more like a term of endearment.

"So good that I'm wondering," I moaned against his skin, "why we weren't using this _before_."

Chuckling in my ear, Paul stopped to do something I didn't catch, and then he went back to stroking me. "Scoot up a little, would you, babe?" he asked me, and I did, because whatever this man wanted, I was ready to give it to him, my whole heart and soul behind it. After shifting up, so my knees were closer to Paul's armpits, it became more difficult to kiss him. So, I got rid of the pillow under his head and grabbed his chin, tilting his head back so I could keep nipping at those lips, which were never too soft and never too hard.

And then, Paul's other hand, wet with lube, found its way between my legs, from behind, brushing at my balls, pushing at the space behind them in a way that made me gasp and thrust into the hand around my cock. Finally, he made it to my asshole, pressing very gently at first, wetting the whole area down. When the tip of his finger pressed hard enough and I could feel him inside, I gasped.

"Okay, Seel?" Paul asked, still stroking my dick with his other hand.

"Good," I moaned, wondering how something so foreign could feel so ... pleasant. And then Paul withdrew both his hands, and I whimpered.

"Just getting more," he assured me, kissing below my jaw as he reached for the tube again. "Sorry if it's still a little cold."

"I don't fucking care," I told him, waiting for him to grab my cock again before I leaned forward, my head against the mattress so my jaw was roughly even with his ear. When the cold liquid hit my heated skin, I jumped and thrust into Paul's waiting hand, trying to still my hips so he could keep touching me.

That one finger slipped just inside a little easier this time, pushing forward slowly in time with his strokes on my cock. At a little bit of painful resistance, I hissed, feeling the muscles in my back tense up.

"Shh," Paul whispered, kissing my shoulder and up my neck. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Nodding silently, I took a few deep breaths before saying, "Okay."

Paul started again and soon his finger was as deep as it could go, rocking in and out less than an inch at a stroke. Unconsciously, I twisted my hips a little and gasped when he pushed his finger into me again, my whole body afire with tingling light.

"What?" Paul asked, concerned. "Are you still okay?"

"Do that," I gasped, sucking in oxygen before I forgot and suffocated myself, "again, Paul."

"This?" he asked, pushing his finger deep.

"Not quite," I trembled, twisting my hips again to meet his hand. "Ah! Ah! There!" I cried, clenching my teeth with a deep groan.

"I'm gonna try another finger," he whispered, leaving me in frustration as he slicked up his hand again. The extra width was easier than I expected, and when he thrust all the way in, we met each other at that spot again, the one that made me cry out in ecstasy.

After a few minutes of starting and stopping, I groaned at Paul, "You'd better start fucking me soon, cause I'm not gonna last forever."

"Seel," he moaned, pulling his hands away from me again. "I can't believe how fucking much I want you." Scrabbling back at the nightstand, he tried to reach the box of condoms and missed.

With a little laugh, I said, "Here, let me." I opened the box, grabbed one out, and crawled back over Paul putting it on him and watching his face devolve into pleasure. Sitting up, Paul opened the lube again, and I grabbed that from him as well. Pouring out a generous portion, I slathered it all over his cock, stroking and tugging at him a little in the process.

"Seeley!" Paul cried gruffly, throwing his head back a little. I looked him over in the dim lamplight, noticing his ruffled hair, his swollen lips, his perfect chest and belly, his slim hips and wide shoulders, and his straight, proud cock, and decided exactly what I wanted to do.

Straddling him again, I took his prick in one hand and lowered myself towards it carefully. "Paul," I said softly, getting his attention back on my face, "I need you to keep touching me."

"Right," he nodded, hands running up my thighs until one reached my dick. He touched me slowly, carefully as I let him inside. It took a long time full of grunts and hisses of pain, but eventually, we were there, our bodies connected, hardly any pain left. "Babe, you feel so god damn good," Paul groaned as he rocked his hips a little below me.

Trying to find that spot again, I leaned forward as I bobbed up and down on him slowly. And then he grabbed my hips and thrust up and, "Fuck! Paul! Yes!"

"There?" he asked, breathless.

Shaking with pleasure I dropped onto him and said, "Yes, there. But I can't hold myself up when you do that," I admitted with a frustrated laugh.

Without another word, Paul grabbed me under the shoulders and flipped us, so I was on my back, and he was the one on top now, swiveling his hips until, "Agh!"

Thrusting into me slowly, one hand carefully lifting my balls out of the way before stroking me again, Paul whispered, "You're so beautiful."

Smiling, I closed my eyes, letting him take care of me, making small noises and gasps when he did something very right. I never thought I'd be doing something like this, having sex like this, falling in love with someone like Paul.

Leaning down, Paul kissed me and murmured, "Look at me, Seeley," so I did, opening my eyes and meeting his. "I want to fuck you harder. God, you're so tight, I can't stand it. I have to... Just tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, kissing him again, grabbing him by the back of his neck and devouring his lips as he pushed into me harder, faster, deeper. I shifted a little, meeting his thrusts with my own and, "Jesus fucking Christ! I'm so close, baby. Keep doing that! Yes, right there!"

"Seel, I don't ever wanna stop," Paul gasped, slamming into me again and again. I was sure this was going to hurt in the morning, but I really couldn't care less. "Shit. It's so good. Please, come for me, Seeley. I can't..."

Happy to oblige, I screamed, my voice hoarse and rough as the pleasure overwhelmed me, my come escaping my body between us. "Oh, for chrissakes!" Paul grunted. "And I thought you were tight before!"

"Paul, Paul, Paul..." I rumbled, trying to ride the wave of pleasure until he was done.

"Seel! Oh!" he cried, burying himself in me one last time, his breath thundering past clenched teeth as he held on, letting me wrap my arms around his torso, holding him tight, feeling his heart thump wildly against my chest.

Before too long, Paul pulled back, keeping a hand on the condom at the base of his cock as he left me. After throwing it away, he came back to bed, getting under the covers with me.

"How're you doing?" he asked, rubbing his forehead on my shoulder.

"Good," I laughed, snuggling closer to him. "I never really thought," I chuckled again, "that getting fucked over would feel so fantastic."

Paul laughed, too. "I guess I'll find out tomorrow."

"That you will," I growled eagerly, hoping I wasn't lying, hoping he'd be back tomorrow night, at least. Because just having this night wasn't enough, even though that's all I'd been hoping for. I wondered, after each night we had left together, would I be hoping for just one more night of Paul's company?

* * *

  
_Review if you'd like, sil vous plait..._


	22. Chapter 22

_Well, here we go. Another chapter for you. This one was beta'd by Happyangstywriter. If you like my Booth slash, you should go check out her stuff, especially "When it Rains"_.

* * *

Chapter 22

The next morning, I saw Paul off with a hug and a lingering kiss before getting ready and making my way to the Jeffersonian to pick up Bones. We had another meeting with the Organized Crime unit, preparing us for the siege on the dollhouse, which was going to go down soon. I guess, despite my anxiety over the dollhouse and finishing up this case, I walked into the lab whistling, because Hodgins stopped me, Angela at his side.

"Hey, Booth! What's put you in such a good mood?"

"What?" I asked, wondering if I was being that obvious. "Nothing."

"No," Angela said, giving me an amused smile. "It's definitely something. What do you think, Hodgins?"

"I think our FBI guy had a date last night," the scientist said with a chuckle.

"So what if I did?" I asked, a little embarrassed, but not so much so that I wanted to deny Paul's existence outright.

"Ooh," Angela squealed. "I need details, Booth. Please?"

"I'm not one to kiss and tell," I told her, trying to put an end to things, but I knew it wasn't going to be that easy.

"Oh, _come on_," she replied with that big smile of hers. "I'm still in the middle of this whole celibacy thing Sweets ordered. I need some vicarious thrills."

"Angela's going a little out of her mind lately," Hodgins explained to me, patting his ex-fiance's arm. "She's been asking inappropriate questions of _everyone_."

Clearing my throat, I replied, "Yeah, I see that. And I'm not ready yet to talk about the person I'm seeing, so can we just drop it?"

"Why?" Hodgins asked me with a wink. "Have you and Dr. Brennan finally gotten together?" Angela backhanded Hodgins' arm, but stared at me expectantly, wanting the answer no matter how inappropriate the question was.

"No," I told them, trying to end the conversation and get out of there.

"If it's not Brennan, who is it?"

Hmm. What to say? I couldn't just say they didn't know the person, because everyone had met Paul during the first few days of the case. I couldn't say nothing, because they would assume that it _was_ Bones, and get overexcited for no reason. What could I say? "This is a place of work, okay, people?" Yeah, that might do.

"It _is_ Brennan," Angela gasped. Fuck. That hadn't worked.

"It's not Bones!" I cried again. "I'm seeing another agent, okay? And we work together, so it's best if this doesn't get around to my boss."

"Ah, an office romance," Hodgins nodded, with that stupid grin on his face. Glancing over at Angela, he wistfully said, "We know what that's like."

Angela smiled back at him, almost shyly. Was something going on again there? But then she was back on me, like a dog with a fucking bone. "Surely you can trust us, Booth? We won't give anything away to the Feds, so spill. Am I buying Christmas presents for two here, or what?"

Watching Bones approach us from the stairway down to Limbo, I growled at her, "Leave it."

Unaware that Bones was now standing right behind her and ignoring my attempts to shut her up, Angela continued, "But Booth, you've gotta at least tell us, is she hot? Like on a scale of one to ten?"

"I said, _leave it_, Ange," I replied carefully, trying not to yell at her. As much as I wished I could tell everyone about Paul, Cam's words kept ringing in my head. Bones wouldn't get over it. She wasn't strong enough to hear this.

"But," Hodgins tapped Angela on the shoulder and pointed behind her to Bones. "Oh, hi, sweetie," the artist gulped. "I didn't see you there."

"What are you discussing so intently?" she asked, unfazed by the situation. "Have we learned something more about the murder weapon?"

"No," Hodgins shook his head. "Angela was just trying to pry into Agent Booth's personal life. I had nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, thanks, Jack," Angela muttered. "I really appreciate you lining me up under the bus there."

"Hey, what are friends for?"

Ignoring the two of them, Bones asked me, "What _about_ your personal life?"

"It's not important," I told her, trying to escort her out of the lab.

That is, until Hodgins called after us, "Booth had a date!" making Bones stop in her tracks.

"Is this true?"

"Yeah, okay, Bones? I had a date. It went _really well_, and I was feeling pretty happy until Hodgins and Angela started bugging me about it."

"I'm assuming that by _really well_," Bones said, her voice even and steady, but tears in her eyes, "you mean intercourse."

"Bones," I sighed, my voice softening as I pulled her into a more private corner. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. "I've been very upset lately, and I don't know why."

Biting back the words I wanted to say, I asked her again, gently, "Is it because I've been seeing someone?"

"Why would that bother me? You're as free as anyone else to pursue romantic interests," she insisted. "Even if you won't tell me who they are."

"Why, indeed?" I muttered. I'd been waiting for Bones to notice me for years. I'd known for sure that I loved her for months before I met Ballard, and got nothing from her. Not that I'd had the courage to ask her for more. And now that I was seeing him? She was jealous. I found myself a little ecstatic, but mostly just pissed off. Why couldn't she have noticed me before? Was she even interested in being with me, or did she always just expect to have me? As someone to fall back on? As someone who would always be there for her, no matter what?

Briefly I wondered if LA needed any more field agents, but soon gave up that pipe dream. Even if I went to LA, there was nothing saying Paul would have any time for me, as embedded as he was in the dollhouse there. And Parker was here. If I moved across the country, I'd never get to see him, and that was a compromise I wasn't willing to make. A boy needed his father.

And being here in DC, I needed Bones. I needed her to work with me and talk to me and be my friend, when so few others were. I needed her to love me. So maybe this odd mood of hers wasn't so bad. Bending the truth, I told her, "This thing I have isn't serious, Bones. Not like you and," I had to spit out the name, "William."

"We are no longer seeing each other," she told me, and my heart leapt again.

"I'm sorry, Bones," I said, letting myself run a comforting hand across her back. "No wonder you're so upset. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"That's just the thing," she said, wiping a tear away from her eye like she was angry it would dare to be there in the first place, "I don't understand what happened. Maybe you could explain it to me?"

"Sure," I agreed, wanting anything but to delve into the intricacies of her relationship with that douche bag. "Tell me about it."

"Last night," she began, leaning further into my arms, so every time I breathed, the scent of her shampoo surrounded me, "William and I went out to dinner. I thought things were going well, but instead of accompanying me home, he said we should see other people."

"Did he give you a reason?"

"He said he could tell I was in love with someone else," she shivered, her voice going cold as she tried to compartmentalize away the hurt. "Which is ridiculous because I think I would know if I was in love with someone. Wouldn't I?"

"I don't know," I answered her truthfully. "You've only just warmed up to the idea that love is more than brain chemicals. Maybe you wouldn't see it."

"Do you?" she asked me, finally meeting my eyes for the first time since our conversation began. And under the weight of her gaze, under those unimaginably intelligent and yet vulnerable and bright-with-tears eyes, I fell again. Hard. Especially when she asked me, "Do you see it? Can you explain it to me, Booth?"

I did see it, now. I way she turned to me whenever we were together. I saw the way she touched me, a hand on my arm or my shoulder, when she _never_ touched anyone else. I saw the way she rationalized these actions by telling herself I was her partner and friend, and such things were done all the time. But not by you, Bones. When you do these things, they mean so much more, god damn it. And I realized then, the thought as powerful and as painful as getting shot - things between us couldn't go back to the way they were. Not now, not when she finally realized I was a man, and not just a partner. I wouldn't let it happen.

Things couldn't go back, but they couldn't go forward yet either. Not when I needed enough time to say goodbye to Paul, because he deserved that much. Clearing my throat and looking away from her, I said, "I'll work on it. Just give me a few days."

"For what? How can a man I only met a few weeks ago know something about me that you don't? Do you think Angela would know? She's generally very astute at figuring out my motivations when I can't."

"Just settle down, Bones, okay?" I said, squeezing her arm in comfort, wondering if a talk with Angela would make things worse between Bones and me, or if the artist could knock some sense into her. "I want to make sure I've got all the facts before I come to any conclusions. I learned that from you."

Giving me a hard look, she quickly made up her mind, "Alright. I will concede to the logic of your argument. Though I _would _ask that you not forget about it, about explaining this to me. If love really is as important as you always say it is, I find myself anxious for your assessment."

"I won't forget, Bones," I assured her, turning her with my hand on the small of her back and guiding her towards the parking garage. "Not in a million years."

* * *

Even before he came over, I decided that this night would be my last with Paul. Part of the decision was due to Bones' melt down, and my subsequent realization that she really felt something for me, that she loved me, and part of it was the awful misery of wondering when I would get to see him again, and whether or not today was the day we said goodbye.

He brought _me_ food this time, holding up a bag of Chinese take-out when I opened the door for him. "Hi, Paul," I said in greeting, and he must have seen something on my face, because he took one of my hands in his, comfortingly.

"Hey, Seeley," he said, kind of sadly, like he already knew what this was. "Would you like to eat with me?"

"I would," I nodded, leading him to one of the beds so we could sit together and eat. There was a little conversation as we got settled and doled out the food, but then things grew silent.

"I know why I'm feeling quiet," I told him after a few moments, "but what about you?"

"They gave Echo a new imprint," he sighed. "A new personality, and she's … _difficult_ to get along with."

"What's it like, seeing the same face become so many different people?" I asked him, curious.

Sighing, Paul finished chewing and swallowed before muttering, "Disturbing. But even with this new imprint, she's still Echo. She's still this weird amalgamation of all of them."

"And you still love her," I guessed, watching his face.

"Yeah," he admitted, casting his eyes down at the food.

"I get it, Paul," I told him. "I do. Sometimes we can't help who we fall in love with."

Looking up at me with that little smile of his, he nodded. "We certainly can't."

Was he confessing that he loved me? Or that he could love me? Because that's how I felt – if not for Bones, I would have had enough time to fall in love with him, completely. "Suddenly," I whispered, setting my food down on the dresser, "I'm not hungry."

"Sorry," Paul apologized, and it took me a second to realize why.

"No," I laughed softly, approaching and sitting down right next to the man on my bed. "I meant, I'm not hungry for any more _food_." But I still wanted Paul. Even though I was in love with Bones, and it seemed as if she actually loved me, I had to finish this thing with him. I had to make love to him one last time before we went our separate ways, and just hope that he'd never forget me.

"Good," Paul nodded to me, setting down his food as well. "I thought I said something stupid."

"You didn't," I assured him, brushing a hand through his hair. "You really didn't, Paul."

Shivering, Paul kissed me lightly, the touch of his lips on mine sending that now-familiar shock of pleasure throughout my body. "I'm going to miss the way you say my name," he whispered, acknowledging for the first time that we would be parting ways if not tonight, then very soon. Fingers playing along the line of my jaw, making my mouth water, he told me, "I can't stay the night, Seel."

"It's okay," I told him, disappointed, but hiding it by letting my hands explore where they would. "We'll just enjoy the time we have left."

For as little time as we had, we took things very slow. I took my time kissing Paul, memorizing how he felt beside me on the bed, how the warmth of his skin seeped out from underneath his clothes, how his skin was rough in some places, smooth in others, and covered with coarse hair in still others. I especially liked the line of wiry hairs from his belly button down under the elastic of Paul's boxers, nipping at the skin there and watching as my lover yelped and squirmed under me, moaning, "Seeley!" When I reached up to kiss him, his stubble was rough against my chin and cheeks, but his lips were delightfully soft. Though the ways he used them, made them seem harder against my lips, tough insistent muscle under the softest skin.

When we were both naked and pressed together, trembling under a light sheet to stave off the cold of the open room air, I asked Paul, "Do you still want what we talked about yesterday?"

"God, yes," he breathed, sinking his fingers into the flesh of my hip. "I need you, Seel. So much."

"Lay back for me, baby," I ordered, driving Paul down into the mattress with a deep, bruising kiss and reaching for his dick, stroking him determinedly, pulling an incoherent babble of pleasure from his lips. Scared that if he kept talking, he would say again that he loved me, I covered his lips with mine, gasping into his mouth when he grabbed my cock, that touch sending so much pleasure through my body, I found myself surprised that none had escaped.

When Paul had his head thrown back in pleasure more often than not, I reached back to the nightstand and pulled out the tube of jelly he'd left behind the night before. I'd had a girlfriend or two that was more adventurous than most, so I knew, in general, how to open him up, how to go slow. "Let me know if it hurts," I whispered, kissing up and down Paul's neck and upper chest while my moistened finger found Paul's entrance and went to work.

"Oh, god!" he growled when I got my first finger buried deep inside his ass. Marveling at how warm he felt from the inside, almost volcanic around my fingers, I stretched him out slowly. "More," he groaned, eventually. "Need more."

"I think," I panted, already rocking my hips and cock against Paul's leg, "you're just about ready for me."

"I've been ready for you for the past two weeks," he said with a little laugh.

Slipping on one of the condoms, I let Paul slather more off the lube on me before I kneeled between his legs and pressed against him. "This is probably going to hurt," I told him, drawing on previous experience. On both sides of the equation now, actually.

"Sure," he nodded, keeping his hands on my shoulders and his eyes down at where I was trying to enter him. "Ugh. Good god, Seeley," he whispered, wincing as I got in that first little bit. "You are not small."

Smiling, I kissed him again and smirked, "Aren't you lucky,"

"Oh, fuck!" he cried as I pressed in further, wincing a bit as his body clamped down on me, almost painfully. "I'm pretty damn lucky."

I distracted Paul with kisses and light strokes on his cock, mumbling against his lips, "So hot, Paul. Need you. Fucking relax for me, baby. Let me… Let me… Oh!" I'd finally slipped in the rest of the way, watching Paul's face to make sure I didn't hurt him too much. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," Paul gasped, letting me kiss him again and again. Keeping my hips still so he could get used to me, I decided it was torture being there, in him, and unable to move yet. Everything in my body screamed for more, for friction and motion, for me to finish what I'd started when I had that first dream about Paul, to fuck him senseless.

So when he relaxed around me, I pulled back the tiniest bit and then pushed forward again. "Oh, Paul," I groaned at the satisfaction of taking pleasure in him, rocking my hips again, in a larger motion this time.

"Mm, Seel," he responded, "that's almost good. Almost."

Almost was not good enough for this man, not nearly. So, taking a chance, I found the back of one of Paul's legsand brought it up so his knee was practically in his ribs. Using my toes as leverage I pushed in deeper, changing my angle at every stroke, until finally, "Ah!"

Paul brought his other leg up of his own accord, his knees fixed to my sides as I kissed him roughly and delved in deeper.

"Seeley!" he cried out, and the sound was so wonderful, it almost brought tears to my eyes. Paul … well, if he didn't love me, he was damn close to being able to. And in this moment, being with him so intimately, I did love Paul. I loved him more than I would ever tell him, because this was the last time, and I couldn't break his heart like that unless I had to.

So I stayed silent, even though I wanted to tell Paul how amazing he was, how incredible his body felt around me, and how much I loved him, I didn't. Instead, I asked, "Is that good?"

"So damn amazing," he cried, "but I need a little more."

Nodding, I tried to fit one of my hands between us, to keep touching him, but I found that in this position, trying to stroke him while keeping a rhythm with my hips was difficult. I groaned in frustration, until Paul's hand covered mine, taking over from me by touching himself and letting me have both hands so I could keep my shoulders up and my thrusts into his body powerful and quick.

I wanted to say, "God damn, Paul. You're so hot, so sexy, so handsome. I can't get enough of kissing you. I can't wait to do this again. I can't wait for the day when I'm completely in love with you. I can't…" But I didn't. I kept my groans and pants wordless, though my eyes met Paul's for a few seconds, and I think he got the message anyway.

"Seeley," he whispered, his voice sounding stuck down in his throat. "Honey, baby, sweetheart. God, it's so good. Keep … please, just keep going!"

My mouth, influenced by the fucking amazing things Paul's body was doing to my dick and the pet names he called me without shame, wanted to scream out how much I loved him, how sad I was to leave him, how I wanted to keep doing this forever. Afraid something would escape in the heat of the moment, I let myself say only one word, over and over again, "Paul. Paul. _Paul._ Paul!"

And then, with a wordless, screaming growl, Paul tugged on his cock once more and his whole body tightened around me as he came, pulling me along with him. Dizzy, lightheaded and heavy all at once, Paul's hand gripping tightly at the hair on the back of my head, overwhelming, tingling fire coursing through my body, I pushed into him one last time, and kissed him. Paul's lips fought with mine, just as the spasms of my orgasm fought against the way Paul's body clenched around me. The world spun, no longer making any sense, except for how right Paul felt under me, in my arms.

God fucking damn it.

* * *

"Do you think," Paul asked when we had calmed down and separated, him lying beside me and throwing an arm above his head, looking up at the ceiling, "that if you didn't have Dr. Brennan and I didn't have Echo, this would be going somewhere?"

"I don't know," I answered him wistfully and truthfully. "I'd like to think yes."

"Me too," he replied, taking one of my hands in his above his chest, looking at it and running his fingers over it, inspecting it almost. "I'd like to think that, too."

"And we'd go out on dates and spend many more nights like this one and have horrible arguments about the toothpaste tube."

"Yeah," he laughed, nudging me with his shoulder. After a moment he asked, "Would you introduce me to your son?"

I found myself surprised by the question. I hadn't been talking about Parker lately, but Paul must have remembered the few times I mentioned him. "Yeah," I nodded slowly. "If we had fights about toothpaste, I'd introduce you to him." Thinking for another moment, I added, "I'd have to introduce you to my brother, too. And my grandfather"

"Would that be difficult?"

"I don't know," I answered. "I hope not. They'd both probably be fine, after they got used to it." Curious, I asked, "Who would you introduce me to?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"You don't have any family?"

Paul chuckled ruefully before saying, "The only family I have is my ex-wife. And we're not exactly on speaking terms."

"Ah," I nodded, taking my hand back when Paul released it. "Then maybe, in a few years, we'd send her a Christmas card, with a picture of us looking ridiculously happy together."

Paul choked on a laugh and had to sit up, coughing so he could breathe again. "That'd be perfect!" he cried, with another laugh. Then, looking down at me, he asked, "Would you tell your partner about us?"

"I thought she didn't exist in this scenario?" I asked, sitting up to face him.

He nodded and looked away, saying, "But if she did?"

"If she did, and if she were still my partner," I sighed, "then, yes. I would tell her all about you."

"Do you think she'd understand?"

I shrugged. "She might."

"Because I'm a guy?"

"No," I assured him. "Because she's still working on accepting love as something that's real and not just brain chemistry."

"Love?" he asked me, like he'd been caught off-guard somehow. Like he hadn't practically said he loved me earlier. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe I'd read too much into his smile. But no, the way he smiled back at me know told me he wasn't upset or scared in the least.

Side-stepping the question, I said, "I wish we'd met under different circumstances. I wish we fit in each other's lives."

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding and drawing me into his arms. "But you've got your whole universe here, and I've got mine too fucking far away."

We hugged for a long time, eventually just lying down together in each other's arms, holding on tightly and being together. I didn't want to, I wanted to hold onto every precious second we had left, but I fell asleep, only woken when there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Fuck," Paul whispered, rubbing his eyes and licking his lips in a way that told me he'd fallen asleep, too. "I have to go."

I sighed and stood up as he did, shoving on some clothes as the knocking became more insistent. Drawing Paul into one last embrace, I whispered, "Fuck it. Paul?" Drawing back enough that we could look at each other, deciding this was much more than brain chemistry, faulty or not, I confessed, "I know it's too soon and I probably won't see you again, but you have to know… I love you."

Nodding, Paul looked into my eyes and said, "But you love her more."

The weight of his words, and the truth in them, pushed me away from him, reeling until I had to sit down on the foot of the bed. My chest clenched and hot tears welled up in the corners of my eyes.

Kneeling down in front of me, looking up and meeting my eyes, Paul whispered, "It's okay, Seeley. I know _exactly_ what it's like, loving someone and then unexpectedly falling for someone else." The knocking on the door practically rattled the whole room at this point, but Paul caught my hand and confessed, "I do love you, Seeley Booth. I probably always will."

So awash in emotions, I didn't know what to do, other than letting Paul kiss me, and trying to convince him through that kiss of how awful I felt that he had to leave. Because this was it. We both knew it, and there was no prolonging the inevitable.

As Paul left my side, to go answer the door, I wiped the tears from my face and stood, trying to salvage some of my pride, at least. Behind the door stood Echo, one fist raised again to pound on the door, her expression dense and almost unreadable. Even though she wasn't a 'real' person, did she understand how much Paul loved her? Was she even capable of loving him in return? I found myself wanting to blame her for needing Paul back, for being a victim of something much bigger than the three of us. I wanted to tell her to fuck off and leave Paul with me, because there was no way she would make him happy.

But I kept my mouth shut, because I knew that as much as I loved Paul, I _did_ love Bones more. And she loved me. And even if he were to stay, I'd end up breaking his heart even more badly, and I could never forgive myself for that.

"What took you so long?" Echo asked harshly. "We've gotta get back to DeWitt, _now_. No more time to share information with your Feeb friend."

Wow, that was different. Paul had told me her personality changed, that she wasn't Agent Ellis, happy-go-lucky company woman anymore, but I didn't quite believe it until I saw it. And Paul had told her that's what we were here in my hotel room? Sharing information? So, just like I didn't want Bones knowing about Paul, he didn't want Echo knowing about me. Fan-fucking-tastic.

But then, Paul replied, "Don't push this, Echo. Just give me a minute to say goodbye."

"Fine," she sulked, and I expected him to close the door again, but he didn't.

Instead, Paul just stalked up to me, grabbed me by the back of the neck, and kissed me _hard_. Forgetting about everything else, including the fact that we were in full view of Echo, I leaned into him, letting my lips press against his again and again.

"This is it," he said, lips whispering against mine, eyes meeting mine, hands holding mine.

"I know."

"Goodbye, Seeley Booth."

"Goodbye, Paul Ballard," I choked out, giving him a reluctant smile.

And then, with one final squeeze of my hands and one final kiss, he was gone and I was free to collapse down onto the bed heavily, holding my head in my hands, and mourning what could never have been.

* * *

_Alright. Stop weeping and review! _

_And thanks again for reading...  
_


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

I was just about to leave for the siege, stopping by the Jeffersonian to get Bones, when Cam pulled me into her office.

"What's going on?" I asked her, a little miffed. "Bones and I have places to be."

"We're concerned about you, Booth," she replied, shoving me into her office and closing the door behind me.

"We?"

"Hi, Booth," Sweets said, standing up from a chair in the corner.

"Crap," I sighed, "have you two been talking about me? I thought that violated privilege, Sweets."

"I said nothing," the shrink cried defensively, holing up his hands. "Dr. Saroyan just voiced her concerns to me and asked me to be here."

"Fine," I muttered, setting my hands on my hips. "What are you concerned about?"

Looking at each other, my two 'friends' decided silently who would speak. Sweets approached me carefully, "You abandoned your resolve to avoid a relationship with Agent Ballard."

"Hey, Cam said she thought it was a good idea," I asserted, pointing at the coroner.

"I did say that, but I meant nothing serious," she shrugged. "And things have gotten pretty heavy if your mood is any indication.

"You don't _know_ how serious Paul and I were," I glared at her, wondering if I even knew how to quantify my relationship with Paul Ballard.

"Wait," Sweets interrupted me. "Were?"

"Yeah, _were_! Happy?" I cried, pacing away from them to collect myself before turning back to face them.

"I'm sorry, Agent Booth," Sweets replied, putting on his sad shrink face. "How do you feel about this break up?"

"I feel upset. Okay, Sweets?"

"Would you care to elaborate?"

I glared at Cam for pulling me into this when all I wanted to do was get into the dollhouse before Ballard's actives did, so we could find the evidence we needed and finish this case. "I feel like my heart's been put through a blender. I feel sick to my stomach with worry all the fucking time because Paul is in way over his head with this case and I don't know how to help him." I paused to sigh, trying to lower my voice, "And I feel like I've learned a lot about myself in the past two weeks."

"Like what?" he asked, using that stupid careful shrink voice he's got. Scoffing, I turned away, trying to escape, but Cam stopped me by blocking the door. Sweets asked again, gently, "What did you learn, Booth?"

Stock-still, I thought about it for a moment before responding, "I can love more than one person at a time. I can fall in love with a man. I hate having to say goodbye, but I can survive it. And I love Bones more than anything."

"But … your brain," Sweets protested.

"Is _fine_," I told him. "Ship-shape. Love is more than chemicals mixing around up there, you know."

'But Booth –"

"No!" I yelled back at him. "I'm done waiting and I'm done trying to hold onto other relationships and I'm done wondering whether or not Bones sees me as a man she could be with. I'm _done._ And as soon as this fucking case is done, I'm going to tell her."

"Even though if this all fades away," Cam said, "you'll completely destroy her?"

"Take a good, hard look at her," I replied, pointing past Cam's closed office door, "and tell me she's leading the life she deserves. Sure, she's got the successful career and money and notoriety. But she barely has any relationships, much less anyone in her life that means something _more_. And that's not a life, Cam. She's _already destroyed_, and I'm the one who's been working, day and fucking night, for four _years _to put all the pieces back together. And even if, God forbid, we end up going our separate ways eventually, I'm the one she wants. I'm the one who's prepared to tell her I will love her without question. I'm the one who fixes her."

"That's interesting that you use the word 'fix' Booth –"

Snarling, I shot back at Sweets, "Not now, kid!" and stormed for the door, relieved when Cam got out of the way at the last second.

"Bones!" I cried, as I entered the main room of the Medico-legal lab. "Where are ya?"

Standing in the doorway of her office, she called, "I'm right here, Booth. What's going on?"

"Get your stuff," I ordered, taking a few deep breaths so I wouldn't take out my anger at certain meddling friends on her. "Please."

"Where are we going?" she asked, a suspicious look in her eye.

Conducting her from the lab, again with my hand protectively on her back, I said, "We're going in to the facility tonight. You and I will just be there to look for evidence, okay? Agent Rosemont will be in charge of capturing the suspects and evacuating the victims."

"Is that your way of telling me I won't need a weapon?"

"No," I shook my head, actually finding myself smiling at her. "I've stopped trying to deprive you of your precious gun. Though please, whatever you do, make sure you don't shoot me."

"I'd never hurt you, Booth."

Sighing as we reached the parking garage, I replied, "Not on _purpose_, anyway."

* * *

As we waited together for the raid, sitting in the back of a surveillance van, Bones asked me, "Are you okay, Booth?"

"Fine," I just about snapped. "Why do you ask?"

Giving me a careful look and letting her hand hover near my face, almost touching, but not quite, she replied, "You look ... sad. Did someone pass away?" When I didn't answer right away, she continued, "According to your belief system, the deceased continue to exist in disembodied form. I imagine you take some comfort from that."

Chuckling a little, I put my hand over hers – testing the waters really – and said, "Nobody died." When she opened her mouth, I cut her off, correcting myself by saying, "Nobody I _know_ died recently."

Placing her other hand on mine, she said softly, "I'm glad you appreciate how highly I value precision."

"I appreciate a lot of things about you," I mumbled, too much of a coward to say what I felt outright quite yet. Because having my heart broken again, twice in twenty-four hours, would probably kill me.

Sighing, Bones replied, "Then, I don't know why you're so sad. Is there anything I can do?"

"Thanks, Bones," I smiled at her, squeezing her hand in mine. "It's just ... I broke up with the person I was seeing."

"Oh," she nodded, failing to hide the slight smile that broke onto her face at the news. "I'm sorry, Booth. What happened?"

"It was a mutual decision," I told her. "For the best, really."

"Then why are you so upset?"

Curious, I asked, "How upset do you think I am?"

"Very," she concluded. "Your eyes are bloodshot and swollen, you've only smiled two times the whole day, but you've sighed sixty two times."

"You know how many times I've sighed?" I asked, snorting in a way that was almost a laugh, but not quite.

"Sometimes, if I'm not using my brain to a certain capacity, such as while waiting for an event to occur, I count things. Rivets in the wall, ceiling tiles, and certain events."

Taking in this information, I let the silence linger between us, at once both comfortable because of how long we'd been partners, and awkward because of the subject matter. Eventually, though, Bones asked me, "Have you given any more thought to your explanation?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Of course."

"And?"

"And we'll talk about it after this is over."

* * *

It was early evening, the sun just starting to set, when Rosemont called for the siege. We'd been camped out in vehicles and empty office spaces for the past two hours, waiting for Nathan Washington to show, just as Petey Pine predicted he would. When I heard the call over my headset, I said to Bones, "Let's go."

As we jumped out of the van with a few other agents, all armed, everyone in tactical gear, including Bones, she said, "Why do we have to go in last?"

Sighing, I explained to her, "You don't know the formations. We'd get in the way, and someone would get hurt, Bones."

"I would know the formations if you _taught_ them to me. We've been waiting around for hours, which would have been plenty of time to teach me. I'm a very quick learner."

"Part of being on a team like this," I said softly, holding her arm back with my gun-free left hand, keeping her at my side, "is learning the reflexes and signals of the rest of your guys, and being able to react to those clues instantly."

"The human nervous system…" she began, but I clapped a hand over her mouth.

"_Almost_ instantly," I amended in a whisper, watching as the groups ahead of us cracked open the security door and started hacking the elevator that would bring us down to the dollhouse below. For guys that kept paper records and sold their dolls to whoever could pay, they had impressive security equipment. Probably protection against Ballard's bosses, I thought. The real Dollhouse owners.

Beside me, Bones fidgeted almost imperceptibly. I only noticed because on occasion, her arm bumped into mine, setting my skin alight and making the hairs stand on end. I felt bad noticing her presence with Ballard still in town, having visited my bed for the last time only the night before. But I'd noticed her before he came into my life, and I'd still be noticing her after he left, especially now that I knew she loved me. At least my activities with him as of late had me much less prone to thinking about how much I wanted to jump her.

I guess Cam had been right about that, anyways. I _had_ been wound way too tightly before Ballard, and he'd helped me remember how it feels to be in a relationship that isn't one-sided. When your romantic interest wants you back, tells you how much he's been thinking about you. Even if being attracted to someone you wouldn't normally pursue was confusing as all fuck, giving into my feelings for him had been one of the best things I'd ever done.

But here and now, with Bones, it was our turn to follow the leader into the dollhouse. Two waves of agents had gone down the elevator before us, securing the facility, making everything safe so that Bones and I could finish our investigation. The "All clear!" came just before the elevator doors opened into a bright lobby which, except for the lack of windows, looked just like any other office building.

"This isn't so bad," I said aloud, as Agent Rosemont came to meet us.

"You haven't seen the living facilities," he replied, shaking his head in disgust and leading us to a door on the far end of the lobby. "We've secured the majority of the facility. Nathan Washington and a few staff members are in custody. Our surveillance says that David Brewer, the other owner, is here as well, but we haven't found him yet."

I tried to ask how many victims they'd found, but just then, the elevator doors closed and the car started moving up the shaft. Turning to the technician at the control board, Rosemont asked her, "Did you do that?"

"No, sir," the woman replied, furiously pushing buttons on her data pad. "Someone else has hacked our override."

"Fuck," he replied in a blunt way that had my heart pounding in my chest and my arm less than subtly pushing Bones behind me. Then, Rosemont turned to me, obviously noting my protectiveness and worry. "Take your partner into that office," he ordered, pointing to the door we'd been approaching. "It's already cleared and that's where they keep the records. Try to find the one you need before we have company."

"Who do you think it is, Don?" asked Taggert, his partner, as I pushed Bones in front of me, keeping my body between her and the elevator doors.

"I'm guessing either Washington got a message out to his thugs before we got him under control or this Brewer guy called for help. And now their men think they can rescue both bosses."

As Bones and I got away from the lobby and into the relative safety of the office beyond, I knew that it wasn't Washington's men coming down that elevator shaft. It was the Dollhouse. The _real_ Dollhouse, according to Ballard. And they would be much more powerful than anyone was expecting. I tried to call out, to warn them, but the actives came in, a light grenade going off almost instantly, giving me barely enough time to get Bones behind cover.

"Christ," I swore, locking the door behind us and throwing both of us behind a metal desk as the cracks and booms of the fire-fight in the next room overwhelmed everything.

"What's going on?" Bones asked me, panting heavily under me. Briefly it occurred to me that if I wasn't so scared that one or both of us was about to die, being this close to her might have been a dream come true.

"I don't know," I replied, shifting away carefully and getting up into a crouch so I could start going through the desk drawers, looking for the information we needed. Finally, I came upon a drawer of paper files and log books, just as the gunfire in the other room died down and someone rattled the doorknob of the office. "Shit!" Checking my weapon, I pointed it over the desk at the door and hissed to my partner, "Go through that drawer, Bones. Try to find the evidence we need and I'll cover you."

"Yeah, okay, Booth," she agreed, setting her weapon, which she insisted on carrying despite my protests, down on the floor before flipping through the file folders with those long fingers of hers. "This filing system appears to be roughly chronological."

The rattling at the door stopped and another round of fire began out in the lobby, more gunshots and thuds as bodies hit the ground. "What's the status?" I asked over my headset. "Anyone else still up?" But there was no reply. "Damn it," I swore, looking down at Bones.

"What?" she asked me, still flipping through file folders.

"We're the only ones left down here. And I have no idea how to get us out."

"Would you like my assistance in coming up with a plan? I'm very astute."

Giving her a slight smile, I said, "Just try to find out who killed Katrina as quickly as possible, please. The sooner we can get out of here, the better."

"The threat of imminent peril is not conducive to finding the name more rapidly, Booth."

"Sorry, Bones," I hissed back at her, blinking a few times to moisten my eyes after staring at the door for so long. "I was under the impression that you wanted to get out of this alive."

Sighing roughly, she shot back at me, "Well, yes. That's the preferable outcome."

"Why can't you just admit that you're scared, Bones?" I asked her, breathing deeply a few times to steady myself when I heard someone on the other side of the door walk towards and then past the office.

"Well," she pulled out one thick folder, paging through it quickly, "are you scared, Booth? Because if you're not…"

Crouching down beside her and grabbing her chin in my free hand so that she would meet my eyes, I growled, "Scared out of my fucking mind."

"Oh," she whispered, taking my hand from her face and placing hers in my grip. I found myself surprised at how small, how thin, her hands were compared to Paul's. "I found the correct file."

"What?" I asked, too distracted by the way she held my hand to properly comprehend her words. When she held up the file, almost shaking it in my face, I nodded. "Oh, good." Tearing my eyes away from hers and taking back my post with my gun aimed over the desk, but leaving my other hand where it was, I told her, "Now we just have to figure out how to get out of here."

Before Bones could reply, a barrage of bullets came through the door, all around the locked doorknob. I tried to duck down in time, but felt a burning pain slice across my exposed shoulder. Once I was sure Bones was safe behind cover, I ducked down and checked on my shoulder, hissing in pain.

"Are you hit?" Bones asked me, he eyes wide and glassy with tears.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to get a feel for the extent of the damage by rolling my shoulder. "I think it was just a glancing blow." But when I tried to lift my arm again, to shoot back at the intruders, the limb felt way too heavy.

Bones scrambled around to my other side as I switched my weapon over to my left hand, glad I'd trained for so many years sharpshooting with my off-hand. "You're bleeding profusely, Booth," Bones told me, her voice wavering between clinical and scared-to-death. Poking around a little bit more before applying pressure to my shoulder with her hands she whispered, "But you are correct. It was what they call a through and through on the outer edge of the flesh."

"Not the first time I've been shot," I muttered through gritted teeth as the pain morphed from the now-familiar burning to a deep, soul-burying ache.

"I know," she scolded. "And don't you dare die on me this time."

Leaning my head against hers as whomever it was outside the office began kicking at the door to break the weakened lock, I replied, "I won't. I promise."

"And it would be most helpful if you would stop bleeding all over the evidence."

"Just keep your head down, Bones," I hissed at her, the ever-louder cracking of the door spoke of its imminent failure. As the figure broke down the door, I fired a warning shot into the doorjamb, hopefully to scare off anyone who might come gunning for us.

The feint worked, because I saw the attacker duck behind the wall, but I couldn't quite see who it was. "Federal Agent!" I called out. "Drop your weapon."

"Ah, ha, ha," a snide male voice yelled back from the lobby, the laughter fake and cynical. "Sorry, Agent Booth, but I'm not going to comply with any of your demands."

Not recognizing the voice, I asked, "Do I know you?"

"No," he replied. "Not officially. But I warn you, I take a long time to get to know."

The ache in my arm pounded in time with my pulse, and I was starting to feel a little queasy, but I had to protect Bones. I had to get her out of here. Calling out to the man, I said, "What are you looking for? I'm sure we can figure this out."

"Sorry, buddy," he called back, and heard him inching forward, feet crackling over the splintered pieces of the office door. But wait; there was more than one set of shoes moving now.

"Who's with you?" I asked him, wondering what had happened to Agent Rosemont, whether or not I'd gotten another good man killed.

"Oh, this is a voice you'll recognize," the man replied before talking to the person near him. "Well, go on. Say hello, lover boy."

"Booth." Instantly I recognized Ballard's voice, my eyes shooting to Bones' beside me, her hands still keeping pressure on my shoulder, soaked in my blood. "_Stay_ _down_."

"Paul?" I asked him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm captured," he replied, that familiar sarcasm in his voice. "So I'd say no."

"Who's got you?" I asked him, calling over the desk again. "Who are you?" I called to the other man, resettling my grip on the weapon in my left hand, hoping the muscles wouldn't cramp up from lack of regular use before today.

"I'm actually lots of people," the man replied. "But Mr. Ballard and his friends like calling me Alpha. Pleased to meet you. _Officially_."

* * *

_A/N: Whew, that chapter took a lot of thought. And sorry about the cliff-hanger! There's probably only one more chapter to go, so thanks for hanging in there with me, and please don't forget to review._


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: To my readers who have only seen Bones: we're delving deeper into the dollhouse mythology now. I'll try to make everything clear, but please, if there's something you feel like you're missing, let me know._

_

* * *

_Chapter 24

"Alpha?" Taking a guess, I asked him, "Were you an active, like Echo?"

"Of course, Agent Booth," the man called back. I wanted to peek over the desk, to see exactly how difficult it would be to free Paul from his captor, but I couldn't exactly trust my reflexes at the moment. "I always try to be my best." He laughed again, a sound I was growing to hate every second this man threatened the lives of both Paul and Bones. "Though I _am_ quite a bit better than most actives. Forty-three times better at current census."

"What did you do with Echo?" Paul asked him, and I could hear the furious worry in his voice.

"Now, now," Alpha scolded. "We'll get to that." Clearing his throat, the man ordered, "If you two would please put your weapons on top of the desk, where I can see them?"

"Don't do it, Seeley," Paul cried.

"Oh, Seeley now, is it?" Alpha mocked him. "Okay, _Seeley_, and the lovely Dr. Brennan if I'm not mistaken? Surrender your weapons now, or poor Agent Ballard here isn't long for this world."

"What do we do?" Bones asked me in a harsh whisper, reaching around me for her gun, which was still on the floor.

I didn't know. I didn't know what to do. Alpha sounded like the kind of man who would follow through with his threats, and Paul certainly seemed worried by him. To have gotten the drop on Paul, Alpha must have been wily to begin with. And I was wounded, and Bones, though she was an okay shot, I wouldn't pin all our lives on her reflexes. "Give up the guns," I told her in resignation, putting the safety on my weapon and reaching up over my head to place it on the desk.

When Bones followed suit, Alpha hummed happily and said, "Okay, now stand up and take three steps back from the desk."

Struggling, I gasped when something pulled wrong as I stood, leaning on Bones when she gave me her arm. Meeting Paul's eyes with what I hoped was an apologetic look, I let my partner help me take those three steps back.

"Shit," Paul said, his eyes lingering on the blood-soaked sleeve of my shirt before shooting back up to my face, searching me for something. "You okay?"

Nodding to him, I told Paul, "I'm alright. It's not bad," even though standing made the room swim a bit and the nausea worse. Fucking blood loss.

"Oh, man," the guy behind Paul crowed, "I can't believe I actually hit you!" Now that I was standing, I could see that Alpha was a blond man, his eyes and nose prominent on an otherwise handsomely symmetrical face. "Well, come on, then. Keep a wide space between yourselves and the desk as you cross over. We've got work to do."

"What do you mean?" I asked, suspiciously, following Alpha's directions carefully, leaving my weapon on the desk.

"Well, it occurred to me," he said, herding the three of us in front of him, "when Agents Ballard and _Ellis_ engaged your services." He giggled a little bit at my expense, I was sure. "I mean the services of the Medico-legal lab. It occurred to me that this would be the perfect opportunity to collect some top-notch personalities."

"What do you mean by _collect_?" Bones asked him and I wondered how she would react to his explanation.

"Well, let's see what we've got here," he said, directing us further into the facility. As we passed the lobby, I saw that most of the FBI Agents had been hit by tranquilizing darts. Unfortunately, the people who must have been on Paul's team all appeared to be shot or brutally sliced up. Had this one man caused all this damage, or did he have help? Did we have any chance of escaping him intact? Would Bones survive? Would Paul?

Continuing, Alpha said, "Agent Seeley Booth. Top-notch marksman, excellent field Agent, despite today's injury. And from what I've heard during many hours of observation, quite the sense of humor."

"What the fuck?" I asked, turning back to face Alpha in anger. "You've been _stalking_ me?"

"Oh, 'stalking' is such an ugly word, Seeley," he grinned, his gun steadily trained at Bones' head. "I prefer to think that I've been doing _research_. Which reminds me," he wagged a finger at me with a grin, "_very_ light sleeper. Bert was a good imprint – one of the ones I did myself – but you just had to hear him coming, didn't you?"

"The hit man who broke into Booth's apartment was yours?" Bones asked him, looking over her shoulder as Alpha urged us on again. "He said he worked for Nathan Washington."

"And who do you think rebuilt Nathan Washington after his nervous breakdown?" he cackled, and I could practically _feel_ him beaming behind us. "And finally, Booth has surprising taste in romantic partners, given his Roman Catholic, red-blooded, hyper-masculine history."

Paul turned around this time, growling in a warning, "_Don't_."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ballard! After last night's display in front of Echo, I didn't think this was a secret anymore."

"You were there?" I asked him, turning around a final time as we entered a dead end room, which was ringed in equipment – computers, monitors, and scores of wires – and had a modified dentist's chair bolted to the middle of the floor.

"All part of my research," Alpha nodded, gesturing with his gun so that the three of us lined up in front an empty wall, which I slumped against heavily, drained of energy. Again, Paul stood on one side of me and Bones on the other. I'd made my decision, damn it! When would this stop happening?

"I don't even want to know what all this research is leading up to," Paul muttered, a hand hovering under my elbow, not touching, but ready to catch me.

Alpha gaped at him in mock-surprise, "You don't want to know? But we're just getting to the good part!" Smirking, Alpha paced in front of us for a moment before standing directly in front of Paul, getting close, but not too close, to him. "You know, I just don't see it, Paul. Why is everyone always falling for you? Is it really the face? Or is it something in the personality? Because that would be a lot more helpful to me. What do you think, Booth?"

Feeling sluggish from the blood loss, I tried to stand up straighter as I muttered, "What? What are you asking?"

"Why did you fall in love with Agent Ballard? Was it primarily the wrappings, or was it the insides?"

Unable to even look over at Bones when she murmured in surprise beside me, I asked, "Why do you need to know?"

"Because if I'm gonna take this personality – Agent Paul Ballard, also FBI, profiling background, martial arts expert, piss-poor investigator – I wanna know if it's going to help me win Echo back."

"She's not yours, Alpha!" Paul snarled at him. "We covered this six fucking months ago. She'll never be yours, you son of a bitch!"

"Well, last time I checked, she's not yours either, Agent Ballard. No matter how many times she throws herself at you." Turning back and grabbing my face harshly, Alpha caught my eyes in his and asked again, "Which was it, Booth?"

Sighing and wishing I could just collapse to the floor and sleep, I replied, "Everything. It was everything. Insides and outsides and everything in between."

"Damn it, Ballard," Alpha snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "You just had to find the last fucking romantic in the FBI, didn't you?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Paul shrug as he replied, "I guess I've just got a type."

Alpha broke out into manic laughter as he let me go and if Paul hadn't caught me, I'd have slid down bonelessly, ass to the ground. As it was, he slung my good arm over his shoulders put his arm around my waist and held me up, our sides pressed together in a familiar and painful way that had nothing to do with the gunshot wound.

Coming back to us, still waving his gun around, Alpha giggled again before saying, "I never noticed the similarities until I saw you all in person! Oh, it's gonna be fun having all three of you in my head."

"What similarities?" Bones asked him, her brow so furrowed it looked like it might stay that way permanently. "And I don't understand what your last sentence means. Is it slang?"

"One question at a time, please, Dr. Brennan," Alpha replied. "Only two of me are geniuses like yourself." Laughing again, the man said, "To the first, I notice that just as Ballard has a type, so does Agent Booth. I mean, look at you two!"

Paul glanced across me to Bones, who met his eyes. This couldn't end well, could it? "Don't you see it?" Alpha cried again, his victorious smile almost splitting his face. "Same brown hair! Same blue eyes! Same square jaw! And people call me fucked up… If Booth wasn't trying to use Ballard to replace you in his life, Dr. Brennan, I'd eat my own ear! Which one of me has already done, actually." My disgust at the confession worsened the nausea and I had to focus on breathing to keep from yacking on the man holding me up.

"Replace me?" she asked, her voice so vulnerable, I couldn't help but try to stand on my own, away from Paul, so I could prove I didn't need him. But after a few attempts, I gave it up as a bad job.

"Never. No one could replace you," I tried to tell her. "We just weren't … ready, Bones. We weren't ready."

"Ready for what?"

Sighing, I met her eyes and let it loose, "Ready to be more than just partners and friends."

"Oh, how touching!" Alpha cried. "But, of course now we come to the third and final personality of the day. Dr. Temperence Brennan, _you_ will be the shining jewel of my collection."

"And why is that?" she asked through the tears escaping her eyes, and I could see she was starting to feel desperate. She was going to try something soon. And damn it, it was going to get her killed!

Grinning, Alpha replied, "Because, my dear, you have the vast knowledge, the disturbing lack of empathy, and the cleverness to hide bodies so they will never, ever be found. I can't have certain experimental subjects surfacing in the Baltimore Harbor again, now can I?"

"You killed Katrina Volshka," I accused him with a snarl, really wishing I had a gun and that the world wasn't swimming around so much. Wishing there was something I could say to Bones to keep her still until I saw an opening. Wishing I didn't feel so weak and practically helpless with Paul's arm around my waist.

"_Oui_," Alpha replied, with a flourish. "That poor girl took a long time to die. But I just couldn't help myself." He laughed again, almost gleefully. "Oh, she was a _nice_ way to pass the time while this facility was being built."

Beside me, Paul spoke up, "How long have you had Nathan Washington under your thumb?"

"Long enough to make quite a bit of money off the people he brings me. Though I have to admit, I ended up killing quite a few of them while I figured out how to install the active architecture."

Remembering what Rosemont had said about his undercover visit and that a certain business partner hadn't been captured during the initial FBI sweep, I growled, "You're David Brewer?"

"Ooh," Alpha jeered. "Just for that lucky guess, you'll be the first one in the chair, Agent Booth." Raising his voice, he called through the doorway, "Oh, Echo, dear? Will you join us, please?"

"Of course," she said, stalking into the room with a bright smile on her face. Beside me, Paul stiffened in horror, giving a tiny hopeless sound that I'm sure I was the only one to hear.

Waving to me with his gun, Alpha said, "Would you help Agent Booth into the chair? And make sure he stays there?"

"Right," she nodded, approaching us carefully. She took my bad arm roughly and I grunted at the pain, trying not to yell out. I wouldn't give this traitor the satisfaction. How could she align herself with someone so evil? How could she betray Paul like this? Was it all just the imprint, or did she remember everything else, like Paul had claimed, and decided to get in league with Alpha anyway? But then, as she sat me down in the chair, Echo met my eyes and gave me a slight smile, winking mischievously.

I quickly hid my expression of surprise, but watched as Echo pretended to restrain me to the chair, actually making the ties deceptively loose. When she was done, practically flouncing back to Alpha's side, the woman asked, "Is there anything else, honey?"

"Yeah, baby," he smiled, leering at Paul a little, "would you get the machine started with copying Agent Booth's neural networks?"

In response, she walked around the chair again and as she passed, she gave Paul a little nod, saying, "I try to be my best." Paul's face became unreadable, cold, except for the briefest of ticks, one corner of his mouth drawing upward. If I hadn't learned his face so well over the past two weeks, I wouldn't have recognized that expression as one of those small smiles of his, quickly repressed as soon as it formed.

I tried to catch Paul's eye, tried to get some other indication that he knew what Echo was doing, that he was in on the plan, but he flat out refused to look at me. Instead, Bones took a step forward, away from the wall and grabbing Alpha's attention. Heart beating wildly fast, I shook my head at her, trying to tell her to stay back and out of the way. But I just couldn't get to her without words.

"I demand to know," Bones spoke up, her voice deadly cold, "this machine's purpose."

Rolling his eyes, Alpha replied, "The tech will measure everything that's going on in Seeley's pretty little head so we can imprint all those neural networks on someone else's brain."

"That sounds highly unfeasible," she said, her gaze still flicking around the room like she was trying to come up with some sort of plan.

"Unfeasible, yes," Alpha smiled, and I saw him steady his gun on her, obviously noticing her agitation too. "But not impossible."

"And whose brain will receive Booth's imprint?"

"Mine, of course," he replied. "I know it's getting a little crowded up there, but I think we can squeeze a few more in."

Shaking her head in confusion, Bones told him, "I don't know what that means. Certainly changing the neuronal connections in your brain to match those of Booth's would supersede your own personality."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Alpha smiled. "But my brain's a never ending jumble of different personalities. Quite like Echo's, actually. She understands what it's like, being dozens of people at once."

"Oh," Bones nodded, like she does whenever she's solved a puzzle, "you have dissociative identity disorder."

"On the grandest scale," he replied, bowing his head quickly, but keeping the gun trained at Bones.

"So Alpha," Paul spoke up, drawing the man's gaze. "You think adding three bright and shiny new personalities to the mix is gonna make Echo love you? You're a killer."

"And you're not, Agent Ballard?" He smiled dangerously with a warning, "Glass houses."

"I've never cut up a woman's face just to see what it looks like. I've only killed in the line of duty."

"Anyone in this room who's never taken a human life, raise their hand," Alpha ordered, staring daggers at Paul, his gun shifting to aim at the other man's heart.

Nobody moved. Wondering what Echo was doing, I carefully craned my neck, trying to see around her and keep my eyes on Alpha at the same time, but Echo's back was to all of us, hands flying over the keyboard.

"Not even you, Dr. Brennan?" Alpha asked, and Bones gave him a furious shake of her head in response.

When she opened her mouth, I thought Bones was going to elaborate, but instead she asked, "Will the process damage Booth? He is still recovering from surgery."

"Oh, that's right!" Alpha nodded.

Before he could continue, I broke in, "How the hell do you know that I had surgery?"

"Of all the tasks I'm truly excellent at performing," he replied, "_research_ is one of my favorites."

Completely creeped out, I tried to think, but I just couldn't. Even the adrenaline rushing through my body, making my heart thump wildly and my palms sweat something fierce, couldn't completely counteract the alluring, shaky, dark-at-the edges effects of so much of my blood soaked into my shirt and Bones' hands. I couldn't even _think_.

And then, Bones moved and I held my breath in horror as she tackled Echo, undoubtedly trying to protect me from further brain damage. Like anyone with military training would do when surprised by an action, he turned his gun on the largest threat in the room – Paul.

Heart in my shoes and my throat simultaneously I watched Paul try to duck, and I watched the muscles in Alpha's arm twitch as he made the decision to shoot and I moved before I even knew what I was doing. As if my body had a mind of its own, I slipped the restraints, stood, and knocked away the gun in Alpha's hand. I couldn't stir up enough force to disarm him, but Alpha's shot went wide, and Paul, still crouched in a duck, plowed into the blond man's midsection, ramming him against the far wall with a guttural yell.

Alpha's gun went skittering away, and the two of them broke out into some of the most intricate hand-to-hand combat I'd ever seen outside of a movie. On the other side of the chair, Echo was making short work of Bones' attack and I prayed that she wouldn't hurt my partner. I wanted to tell Bones to give up, that Echo was on our side, but I couldn't. All I could do was dive onto the ground after Alpha's loose weapon, grabbing it up and struggling to turn over to face the room.

As I turned, first and foremost, I saw Paul, on his knees in front of Alpha, about to have his neck broken. Without hesitation, I aimed and pulled the trigger, thanking whatever saints I could think of when the bullet missed Paul and buried itself in Alpha's upper chest. The blond man dropped, shooting a little grin at me as he fell.

Making sure to safety the gun first, I collapsed back, my head thudding on the cold cement floor, and promptly passed out.

* * *

I think what ultimately woke me wasn't Paul shouting, it wasn't Bones shouting back and then dropping by my side, it wasn't her shaking me. No, it was the smell of her shampoo as she held me protectively in her arms. And it was the way her lips fluttered against mine so softly, I was sure I was dreaming it until I dragged my eyelids open and Bones' face, red with tears, was all I could see.

"Damn it, Booth!" she sniffed. "I thought you promised not to die on me this time."

"Unless I'm mistaken, Bones, I feel fairly alive," I replied, trying to sit up and seeing Paul crouched right beside Bones at my side. Sheepishly, considering he must have just seen Bones kiss me, I said, "Uh, Paul. Hi."

He nodded, a whisper of that small smile of his playing across his lips. I think it was in that instant that I realized how drastically things between us had changed in such a short period of time. He was no longer Paul, the man I fell in love with and could have imagined a future with. Instead, he was Ballard, the man I would always love as a friend, someone I could count on to have my back, if he was ever in town, that is.

Looking further down, Echo sat up on the dentist's chair, looking down at the three of us, seeming much happier than the last time she'd seen someone kiss me. So she was on our side, after all.

Trying to sit up, and failing, I asked Bones, "Did I kill him?"

"If not for my super medical skills," Echo replied in Bones' stead, "you would have. He should survive."

"Why did you save him?" I asked, wondering if maybe her loyalties were still a little misplaced.

Shrugging a bit, Echo replied, "He's worth more alive to us than dead. And…"

Turning to her, Paul watched her for a moment before putting his hand over hers. It hurt, seeing him reach out to her like that. It hurt knowing that he wasn't mine. Softly, Paul asked her, "And what?"

"And the more we know," she replied, standing up and pacing away from him, "about his fucked up brain, the more we know about mine."

"What happens now?" Bones asked. "This is much bigger than a human trafficking case, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Paul agreed, turning back and helping Bones get me to my feet. "I don't think your guys will know what to do with all this."

"And your guys will?" I swayed on my feet slightly, putting my good arm over Bones' shoulder this time.

"We can deal with Alpha. If we can find the wedges, we can put all the actives here back to way they should be."

"You really think your boss would just give them up like that? Didn't Alpha make a shit-ton of money running this place?"

"She wouldn't take them, and I doubt she would let any of the other houses take them either. These people were not volunteers."

"And I was?" Echo asked him. "Because I don't feel like a fuckin' volunteer most of the time."

"I don't know, and you won't either until we imprint Caroline."

Shaking her head and walking out of the room, rolling Alpha on an office chair, she replied, "I'm not having this argument again."

"If you're taking Alpha and all the witnesses," I asked Paul, "can we at least have Nathan Washington? We might be able to find enough evidence here to convict him of human trafficking in any case?"

"Yeah –" Paul began, until bones cut him off.

"You're seriously going to aid in the sheltering of a known murderer from the justice system?" Oh, Bones. She always believes in the system.

"The system can't deal with a psychopath with more personalities on hand than a dive bar on a Saturday night, Dr. Brennan," Paul told her, something creeping into his voice as he spoke to her. Resentment?

"It's fine, Bones," I said, patting her hand on my arm. "Sometimes we have to take into account the big picture."

"What big picture, Booth?" she asked me, looking up into my face with those big eyes.

"The one where we forget we saw half this stuff and you take me to the hospital," I said, wincing again.

"Oh!" she cried, dropping the subject and digging out her phone. "There's no signal down here. We have to go outside first."

Needing to talk to Paul before we left things, I asked Bones, "Why don't you call for the cavalry and an ambulance? I'll be up in a minute."

"I understand," she nodded, another stricken look on her face that made me pull her back before she left.

"I'm just saying goodbye before Paul and Echo go back to LA."

"Oh," she replied, looking almost startled that Paul wouldn't be sticking around her. I wasn't too keen on the idea myself. But if he _was_ in town, it would make things just that much harder to move on. "I'll go up and make the call. Do you need me to come back down for you?"

"Thanks, Bones, but I'll be okay. I'll be up in a minute."

Nodding, Bones stepped onto the elevator and pushed the button, and I was surprised that it responded after all the security systems we'd had to bypass getting down in the first place. Once she was gone, I leaned against the lobby wall next to the elevators and faced Paul. "I'm sorry you had to see that back there," I told him. "I didn't know she would kiss me."

"It's okay, Booth," he whispered, carefully brushing my face with his fingertips before pulling away. "Now's your chance to go be with her."

"Are you sure?" I asked him, watching as he took another step away.

"Yeah," he nodded. "You deserve to be happy, Booth."

"And you don't?"

"Not yet," he insisted, shaking his head and taking another step away from me, back into the dollhouse. "Take care of yourself, Booth."

"You too, Ballard," I nodded, wishing for just one more kiss and knowing it wasn't going to happen. "Let me know where you end up. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he replied, giving me a sad version of his small smile and leaving me to ride the elevator up to Bones and the rest of the real world, alone.

* * *

The next morning, when I woke up in the hospital, full of transfused blood and painkillers, the rip in my arm held together by ugly black stitches, Bones was there. And she wasn't just in the room, she was on the bed, sleeping next to my good side, her face peaceful and elegantly beautiful on the pillow above my shoulder.

When I moved a little bit more, she woke up, her eyes finding mine right away, refusing to back down, daring me to challenge her place here beside me. I didn't. Instead, I just smiled at her, saying, "Good morning, Bones."

"I'm glad you're still alive," she said, sitting up and brushing her hair down and away from her face.

"I'm glad you're here," I told her, catching her hand in mine.

"You don't wish it was Agent Ballard here?"

"No!" I cried, denying the little bit of truth there. "_You're_ the one who's supposed to be here, Bones." Taking a deep breath and a deep chance, I continued, "You're the one I love."

"I know," she nodded. "That's what he said, anyways."

"You spoke to Paul?" I asked her, really sitting up this time, wondering what the hell he'd said to her.

"Yes," she said, looking down at where my hand held hers tightly. "After you passed out in the ambulance. He said he could tell how much you loved me, and not in a friendly, 'atta-girl' sort of way."

Loving and respecting him even more for giving me this, for giving me her, I replied, "He was right."

"How does he know you that well? How did he figure out in two weeks something I should have seen?"

"I don't know, Bones. I've been in love with you for so long, I don't even really remember how things were before or when things changed." Sighing, I said, "And Paul recognized in me what he's struggling with as far as Echo goes."

"I never knew you were attracted to males, Booth. What else don't I know about you?"

"You know everything about me, Temperance. And I wasn't attracted to guys before him," I told her. "I really wasn't trying to replace you, either. I was just … waiting for you, I guess."

Bones nodded, thinking over my words and letting me keep hold of her hand until she whispered, "I think I figured out why William broke up with me."

"You don't need me to explain it to you anymore?" I asked, meeting her eyes with a small version of my charm smile.

Shaking her head and returning my smile, she said, "When I thought Agent Ellis was going to use that machine on you, all I could think of was … I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let them take you from me. And that's how I knew."

"Knew what, exactly?" I prodded, needing to hear those words from her, needing to know I'd let Paul go for the reason I was hoping for.

"I thought that I loved you as a friend, and a partner. I thought that's why I couldn't stand being so far apart from you on this case. But, then, when William broke up with me, nothing made sense anymore. And I hated that. I hated not knowing." Sighing, she kept her eyes down, at the hospital bed blankets as she said, "But now I know I love you as something more, Booth."A few tears escaped her eyes, and I felt my face grow wet, too, my heart expanding painfully in my chest and my breath catching under the weight of the moment. Here, in the hospital, the morning after we laid siege to a place I would never forget, even though I probably should, because of how connected it was to Paul. Here, Bones told me, "I love you romantically and I don't know what to do about it. I don't know how to be in love."

"Nobody does," I assured her, letting my hand drift to her face, lifting her chin so she would look at me, her tear-reddened eyes meeting mine. "Every time it's different, and we just have to figure it out together."

"But what about our work?"

"It doesn't matter now, Bones," I told her, shaking my head when she tried to protest. "It's too late to avoid all the complications that go along with being together and working together. We already love each other. "

"In that case," she mumbled, her eyes still wide and vulnerable, "would it be okay if I kissed you?"

Smiling, I nodded. "Yeah, Bones. That would be more than okay."

Because it was her, because it was Bones, I let her come to me. I let her lean in, closing my eyes and breathing her in as our lips met. The kiss felt like being born. Like dying. Like my heart exploding in my chest and something else, even better, taking its place. It felt warm and soft, and nothing like kissing Paul. But it did feel like love, and I thanked whoever was listening up there for my good fortune. And prayed I wouldn't screw it up. Because I was planning on being with Temperance Brennan for a long, long, time.

* * *

_So there you have it. One last chapter to end this tale. I hope you liked it! Please review/favorite if you are so inclined. I really appreciate all the feedback I've gotten on this piece over the past few months, and I definitely feel like my writing has improved in some important ways, due in large part to those reviews. I know some of you wanted Booth to end up with Paul, but I chose to end it this way for a number of reasons. It was an interesting emotional journey to take our favorite FBI agents on, but that's what it was always meant to be. A journey, where the destination matters only as much as the route you take to get there._

_Furthermore, because I can't leave a universe alone once I've imagined it, and because there was so much going on in the background of this story, I've decided to write a companion piece from Paul Ballard's point of view, detailing his journey. I've yet to title the piece, but it will appear under the Dollhouse section, eventually. _

_Thanks again for reading. I love you guys, so let me hear from you. And be sure to check out my other stories._

_(P.S. If you like my work, please check out Happyangstywriter, who's been quite helpful with suggestions and feedback throughout my time here on FF, and Pyropadawan, who has a really interesting Dollhouse fic going right now, "Lonely Souls" and who may be coming out with something inspired by this work, so keep an eye out!)_


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